Windwalker_Forbidden Flight

by H. J. Bellus

  “Quickly!” Kiva yelled as a group of about twenty men dressed for battle poured out. They wore thick layered aga skin across their chests, and each held a small buckler shield and a short, arm’s length spear with a sharpened blade at the end.

  “Kivanya?” one of them asked, shocked at the sight of her.

  “The exile!” proclaimed another.

  Kiva’s expression darkened. “Destroy the eyes,” she instructed, pointing to the chaos behind her. “It’s the only way to stop them.”

  A woman screamed across the basin, and the safekeepers rushed out into the fray, their surprise superseded by the need to protect.

  Kivanya, Noor thought, drawing her attention to the center of the basin. Hundreds, possibly thousands of sandy tendrils were swirling up from the ground. They twisted and coalesced, forming a solid body. The base of the emerging sandshade was twenty paces in diameter. It climbed at least forty paces high, growing taller still.

  Kiva leapt onto Noor’s back, and they sprung high into the air. Noor circled the height of the sandshade as it took the shape of an enormous, winding column, covered in downward slanting spikes. The head of the great serpent elongated, and fangs as tall as Kivanya grew down from the top and up from bottom of its spiked, serrated maw. The sandshade had no eyes, but instead housed two large clusters of black crystals on either side of its head.

  Now that it was fully formed, Kivanya and Noor were dwarfed by comparison. They were like a small clayfowl, haranguing a gigantic aga lizard.

  A great hiss came from between its jaws. Down below, a safekeeper turned to face the beast. As he craned his head back to take in the sight, the whites of his eyes shone in disbelief, and his jaw hung slack. The sandshade struck. The warrior could only raise his arms up defensively as the massive jaws clamped down on his midsection. He was lifted high into the air, and the great snake pointed its nose to the sky. It opened its jaws wide, and guzzled him down into its writhing throat.

  We have to stop it, Kiva thought, and Noor agreed wholeheartedly. To the kiraeen, this was an abomination; the same ancient enemy that had forced them from their old world.

  Kiva opted for Noor to lead their attack. The kiraeen climbed high above the snake, took aim, and dove. They streaked toward the great head at breakneck speed. As they grew close, Noor extended her talons and clawed at the cluster of black glass on the right side of its face. Several of the gems went flying. Noor beat her wings, diving away. The massive snake snapped after their retreat. Noor cursed as the great maw clamped down on some of her tail feathers, pulling them free.

  Kiva looked back and saw a great clump of sand slough off the snake.

  It’s working, she thought.

  Of course it is, Noor remarked, climbing high for a second attack.

  Kiva was focusing on their next strike when the high pitched screams of young children drew her attention. She sat up on Noor’s back and turned toward the sound. Three figures stood cornered against the wall of the basin. The larger of the three was hunched over, swinging a cane defensively. They were fully surrounded by sharun soldiers, slowly closing in.

  With the keenness of her bond-enhanced eyesight, Kiva recognized the hunched figure as the cranky old qadim who had declared her exile.

  Suriel.

  Kiva turned, facing forward. Noor was climbing quickly, curving around toward the rear of the great serpent’s head.

  Keep the sandshade busy, Kiva instructed.

  What will you do?

  Instead of answering, Kiva drew her dagger and leapt from Noor’s back. She gauged the wind, and angled her body toward the monster. Gripping her dagger with both hands, she plunged it into the sandshade’s back. Gravity and momentum drew her down, and her blade opened a long gash along it as she fell. Looking up as she descended, Kiva saw the serpent’s long head swing around toward her. At that moment, Noor landed another attack, clawing at the cluster of black gems in its face. The sandshade forgot Kiva, snapping angrily toward Noor, whose agility kept her from its fangs.

  Kiva hit the ground and rolled backwards, maintaining the grip on her dagger. She stood and turned, then ran toward Suriel and the children. The sharun cornering them were focused on their prey. Kiva targeted the closest one and marked it for death. She snuck up behind and wrapped an arm around its head, then pulled her curved dagger through its neck. The head, which had been wearing the mask of an eagle, disintegrated in her arms. She stomped on its crystal eyes before tearing through the next. She’d eliminated three of the ten before they realized what was happening.

  Once she had their attention, Kiva backed off in an attempt to draw them away.

  “Kivanya?” Suriel’s husky voice was thick with disbelief.

  “Run!” Kiva shouted as the remaining sharun began advancing on her.

  Suriel gathered the children, and the three of them hurried for the safety of a nearby abode.

  Kiva glanced behind her and found four more sharun that had given up on attacking closed doors to come for her. Another two swirled up from the sand, closing off her only escape.

  I’m trapped! Kiva thought in a panic.

  Noor immediately gave up harrying the serpent to assist.

  Even with the kiraeen’s help, there were too many to fight without being skewered. Kiva realized with growing dread the only option available to her. She had no choice but to attempt the harab maneuver. Taking a defensive stance, she projected her intent to Noor. The kiraeen understood immediately, pulling her wings in and diving toward Kiva.

  The sharun warriors edged cautiously closer, and one thrust a stabbing spear toward her midsection. Kiva parried the attack with her dagger.

  Hurry!

  Noor’s screech came from behind, and Kiva watched as the air currents preceding Noor’s dive swirled around her. She instinctively thrust her arms outward, and less than a second later they were gripped in Noor’s talons. Kiva lifted her legs, avoiding the spears of the surrounding sharun, and they soared up to safety.

  We did it! Kiva thought with heart-pounding relief.

  Noor climbed high, skirting the walls of the basin, and keeping her distance from the serpent. It was much thinner than it had been thanks to Noor, but the great beast was still a force to be reckoned with. It smashed its head into a closed door, splintering the wood to bits. Two sharun entered the abode soon after.

  Noor kept climbing up over the basin. Once they had adequate height, the kiraeen opened her talons. Kiva dropped, controlling her fall and watching below. Seconds later, Noor was there. Kiva landed on her back, gripping feathers with one hand, and holding her dagger out behind with the other.

  It was just as Jonah had said. They flew not as kiraeen and rider, but as a single, indissoluble unit.

  As if summoned from memory, Kiva spied three dark shapes speeding through the sky far to the east. Windwalkers, Kiva thought. But so few? She realized then she’d been so worried about the basin, she hadn’t thought of what might happen if Jonah and the others were caught in the massive storm without shelter.

  You better not have gotten yourself killed, she thought.

  Noor angled for another strike at the sandshade serpent, and Kiva prepared herself. They swooped down, again angling for the cluster of black gems on its face. As they drew near, the serpent anticipated their attack, and Noor was forced to break off. They avoided its snapping jaws, and had begun to swoop back up when Kiva felt something wrap around her ankle.

  Before she realized what had happened, she was yanked from Noor’s back. She swung down, dangling by her ankle from the sandshade’s long, rough tongue. It drew her in toward its enormous fangs. Kiva curled her body up, gripped the tongue, and severed it with several slashes of her dagger.

  With nothing to hold her up, Kiva fell backwards toward the ground. Unable to reach her in time, Noor screeched in despair.

  Kiva hit the sand hard, and the w
ind was knocked from her lungs. She gasped desperately for air as her vision acquired a dark vignette around the edges. Time began slipping, and she could no longer tell whether what she saw was real, or a dream. More kiraeen swooped down, attacking the serpent. Great chunks of sand sloughed off it. Suddenly, a single, riderless kiraeen—larger than the others—streaked through the air across her vision. It collided with the serpent’s neck, bursting through the other side. The sandshade’s head was divided from its body. It toppled, tumbling down end over end. Kiva’s consciousness faded before it hit the ground.

  17

  Protection

  Kiva slowly opened her eyes to a dark room. Her ribs ached, and her head was throbbing painfully with every beat of her heart. She groaned, and a blurred figure appeared, leaning over her.

  “Jonah?” she mumbled.

  There was a brief pause before an answer came, “No little moon. It’s Papa.”

  “Papa,” she repeated, lost in a haze of confusing shadows. “Am I dead?”

  “Far from it,” he answered.

  Welcome back.

  Kiva furrowed her brows. The thought was not her own. How…

  Her memories began to return.

  Noor?

  Kiva attempted to rise, and was rewarded for her efforts with a stab of pain in her side.

  Her father placed a hand on her shoulder. “You need to rest, Kivanya. You took quite the fall.”

  “The basin!” Kiva said with sudden urgency as memories of the attack returned.

  “The threat has passed,” he said calmly. “You are safe.” He moved his hand to Kiva’s forehead, gently pressing her head back onto the pillow.

  “What about Mama? Mica? Amir?”

  “All fine,” he said.

  “Al’ama!” an old woman’s voice came from the doorway. “Why did you not tell me she awoke?”

  “She only just—”

  “Pah!” the unfamiliar woman muttered, elbowing him aside.

  Kiva still couldn’t focus well enough to discern her features.

  A healer. Her groggy mind was able to grasp at least that much.

  The woman moved quickly. She reached down, then smeared something across Kiva’s forehead. The pungency was overwhelming, and Kiva’s eyelids became too heavy to hold open.

  ***

  “Please! I must see her!”

  Kiva stirred at the plea. She was unsure how much time had passed since she last woke, but there was light streaming through the circular window in the stone wall, and the throbbing in her head had receded.

  “She is not ready for visitors,” her father said sternly.

  Kiva strained to hear the conversation taking place in the hall outside her room.

  “I swear, I’ll not disturb her. I just need to see her.”

  I know that voice, Kiva thought.

  “Jonah?” she called weakly.

  “Kiva!” he shouted.

  “Oh just let him in already,” her mother said in exasperation.

  Seconds later, Jonah stood in the doorway of her room.

  His hair was even more disheveled than usual, and he looked as if he hadn’t slept in days.

  “Kiva,” he said, rushing over and kneeling where she lay.

  She felt the warmth of his hand on hers.

  “I am so sorry,” he said, his eyes pained.

  “Not your fault,” Kiva breathed.

  “I should have been here,” he sighed.

  Kiva squeezed his hand. “Turned out alright.”

  Jonah met her gaze, his dark shaggy hair spilling across his forehead. “Because of you,” he said. “If you hadn’t given warning, and raised the sandshields…there would be far fewer of us left.”

  “It wasn’t enough,” she said, recalling those who had fallen by the sharun’s hand.

  “The entire basin sings your praise, Kiva. You are a hero.”

  Kiva was stunned into silence. She hadn’t considered her actions heroic; she had only done what she could in the moment, what she assumed anyone in her position would have tried to do. Even Noor, who had never once given praise, was emanating pride at sharing a bond with one as strong willed and determined as she.

  Jonah’s eyes swept over her bandaged body. “Never again,” he said. “I’ll never let anything like this happen to you again. I swear it, on my bond.”

  Kiva frowned. “Jonah Basara,” she said sternly. He was looking at her with such genuine concern and worry that her own expression softened. “I appreciate the sentiment, but you must allow me to take responsibility for my choices. I am a windwalker, not a child to be kept in your care.”

  “But I…” he trailed off, looking away. Jonah was clearly distraught.

  “Look,” she said. “If you insist on protecting me, then you must accept the same from me in equal measure.”

  When he turned to face her again, there were tears welling in his eyes. “I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered.

  Kiva breathed a small smile as she realized it was not concern and worry that drove him to say such things. It was love. Unmistakable, profound, enduring, all consuming love.

  Kiva placed her free hand to the side of his head. Ignoring the pain in her chest, she drew his lips to hers. The same electrifying thrill coursed through her body, sending tingles through her skin. The way he kissed her back left no doubt in her mind he felt the same.

  “Ahem,” her father cleared his throat, and Jonah nearly fell over trying to scoot back.

  “Ustaaz Fariq! I was just…we were just—” Jonah stammered.

  “I know what you were doing,” he said, his brows knitting together in displeasure.

  “Papa, I kissed him,” Kiva insisted.

  “That’s not how it appeared to me,” he answered, glaring at Jonah.

  Kiva’s mother appeared behind him, smiling. “Oh come now Haruk,” she said, trying to steer him out of the room.

  Kiva’s father sighed loudly, glaring at Jonah. “Out.”

  “Yes Ustaaz. Thank you,” Jonah stood and bowed his head hastily. He took three steps, then turned to Kiva. “I’ll see you at the celebration,” he said with a grin, then turned and sidestepped around her father.

  “Celebration? What celebration?” she asked, but he was already out the door. “Mama, Papa? What celebration?”

  “In good time,” her mother answered. “First, you need to eat something.”

  18

  Exultation

  The following day, sounds of celebration rang throughout the basin. Kiva sat up, albeit slowly, in anticipation. Her parents had been infuriatingly sparse with details about what was happening. Whatever it was, it had, by the sound of things, filled the basin floor with crowds at least as large as those for the proving ceremonies.

  “You’re sure you’re up for it?” her father asked. The great barrel chested man stood before her with his arms crossed.

  “I’m fine Papa…really!” Kiva answered. There was no way she was missing it. The idea of being cooped up for even another day made her want to run screaming.

  “Alright,” he answered, still not sounding fully convinced. He turned to leave, and a moment later, her mother came in to help her get ready.

  Kiva slowly rose to her feet with her mother’s help. There was a constant discomfort in her chest, but the sharp pains were far less frequent.

  “You will see this Jonah today?” her mother asked.

  Kiva flushed, and her mother smiled.

  They walked over to a small wooden bench, and Kiva sat down.

  “The boy is very brave…” her mother said as she brushed Kiva’s long black hair.

  Kiva recalled the fuzzy memory of four kiraeen, striking at the sandshade serpent before she lost consciousness. Jonah had been among them.

  “…Approaching your father and I for
help, when you were stuck atop the walls?” her mother finished.

  It was not the reason for bravery Kiva had expected.

  “When he told Papa you were injured, and that it was his fault…”

  “It wasn’t his fault,” Kiva insisted.

  “Do you honestly think it would have made a difference to Papa? He nearly marched straight to the council to put a stop to your training.”

  “You prevented him?” Kiva asked.

  “It would have been disastrous for our cause. He had no choice but to wait, and trust that you would take care of yourself. And as for Jonah…”

  Kiva could hear the smile on her mother’s lips.

  “He’s just lucky he had nothing to do with your latest injuries…”

  Kiva rolled her eyes. Her Papa could be so protective, but she loved him anyway.

  “I have seen the way that boy looks at you,” her mother said. “You know your father and I weren’t much older than you two when we wed.”

  There was a long pause. Marriage? The idea seemed scarier than a pack of sharun warriors. “Windwalkers can’t marry, Mama.”

  “Is that what he says?” her mother asked. “If that sharmoot means to lie with you without—”

  “Mama!” Kiva turned to her mother, aghast. “It’s not ‘what he says,’ it is just how things have always been.”

  “I see, and because things have always been so, they should remain as such?”

  Kiva had no response. In truth she wasn’t sure whether she ever wanted to marry. What would Noor think of such an arrangement?

  Just then, Kiva felt Noor ruffle her feathers at the thought.

  “Just be careful, that’s all I’m saying,” her mother continued gently. “You know how to fly, how to fight…but love is something else entirely.” She stepped around before Kiva and cupped her face with her hands. “I am so proud of you Kivanya.”

  Kiva smiled back at her beautiful mother. “And I am proud of you, Mama. We did it. After all this time, the council has balance.”