Colibrí stood with the other sentinels in shock.
None of them spoke. The silence between them said enough.
Chapter 6
Narune sniffed at his mother from across from the pot made of clay and woven fibers that Kisari was stirring. They sat outside on spare mats to enjoy the morning in spite of a cloudy sky.
Sanemoro hummed as he dropped sliced fish, herbs, and a variety of forest roots and vegetables like maize and calabaza into the pot. The charcoal burning beneath it filled the air with smoke and made the sticky heat worse.
It had taken Narune a few notches to fetch all the ingredients Sanemoro had wanted, but that wasn’t what soured his mood.
“What is it, Naru?” his mother finally asked. “You've been glowering at me for the last few days. I’m alive, aren’t I? Or is that what disappoints you?”
“At least then I’d won’t have to sit around wondering if I’ll ever see you again.” Narune huffed. “Somehow, the waiting is worse than knowing.”
She leaned back and raised her eyebrows. “Oi, that’s very cruel!”
Kisari snorted and glanced between them. “Don’t listen to him, Mother Colibrí. He almost cried when I told him you had been wounded.”
He glared at his friend and she threw him a sweet smile as she resumed stirring. Her tendrils were leafless today, the flowers pink, white, and red.
Sanemoro laughed and threw more into the pot even though there was already too much in it.
“There won’t be any bone broth left if you keep that up,” Narune mumbled.
The sage laughed again and raised a finger into the air. “This is my special concoction, guaranteed to ease any and all pains no matter what form they take!”
“Really?” Kisari asked.
“It has made me feel bright often enough, back when I was a sproutling,” Sanemoro said with a cheerful shrug.
“Good,” his mother said with a sniff not unlike his own. “Someone here needs a little bit of sunshine inside of them.”
He frowned over at her, and she met his gaze, but Sanemoro shook his head and spoke. “Don't be so prickly, Colibrí. He only worries over you, eh? And, having heard your tale, he should worry! I myself am still shocked to find you here, alive and well.” He shook his head slowly and waved a hand at her wrapped shoulder. “Even so, you would not be healing like this had you been born off the islands. Give thanks to the Guardian for the knowledge that you will fight again.”
“Maybe next time you’ll trust me enough to bring me with you,” Narune said to her.
His mother frowned and let out a long breath. She passed a hand through her hair, now unbraided and flowing down her bare back. “Maybe I will. It would be nice to have another at my side. I’m… just not used to having that choice.”
He blinked in surprise, and both Sanemoro and Kisari gave him meaningful looks. Narune shuffled a bit and decided to draw back his teeth.
“Well, good. I would be honored to fight beside you,” he said. “And this way, if something ends you, then it’ll kill me too and spare me the trouble of dying from worry.”
His mother laughed. “Oh, Naru. I’m sorry, eh? Do you want me to grovel and beg for forgiveness?”
“Hm...”
“Naru!”
Kisari giggled. “You two are so much alike,” she said. She pointed at their shoulders with the dripping spoon. “Look, your wounds even match! Everyone will see you and say, ‘Oi, the mother and the son are so close that they’re even wounded the same way!’”
He rolled his eyes at the same time his mother did, which only made Kisari burst out laughing in delight. Sanemoro gently, but very insistently, drew her back to stirring, proclaiming it was crucial to the perfection of the meal.
It took a little while longer before Sanemoro finally proclaimed it fit for eating. They each took bowls, sat in a circle, and then made small talk; the best kind, in his opinion. Their discussion was simple and without real meaning, and often about the parts of life that were like the river instead of the stones or shores. They laughed throughout, nipping each other lightly, and it felt good.
The meal ended long before it began to rain, but their morning together ended there.
Sanemoro helped them clean and then gave them farewells, but not without promising to return later to care for his mother and give her some company.
Narune lounged inside their bohío with his mother and Kisari as a drizzle began to fall. There were still a few notches left until the start of the Ritual of Fang and Feather, which would take place at midday. He hadn’t yet told his mother and didn’t know if he—
“What’s swimming around in your thoughts now?” she asked from where she was whittling in the corner, eerie as ever with her timing.
“Uh… nothing. I’m just thinking.”
“Nothing, eh?” she said, unconvinced, and lowered the smoking pipe she was making for Lishan. Her gaze fell on him in a way he knew all too well. “No, your adorable face is saying, ‘something is bothering me, but I don’t know what to do about it.’”
He flicked his tail. “There’s nothing adorable about my face. I have a very wise look.”
“Well, you do kind of have an adorable face,” Kisari said from beside him, a bowl of chicha in her hands. Then, when he slowly turned to glare at her, she grinned and added, “But the way you wear your feelings makes you look very mature and wise.”
He ignored her and turned back to his mother. “It’s not important. At least, not at the moment.” He decided then that he would wait. Narune wasn’t an adult just yet, but he wasn’t a sproutling, either, so he didn’t need her formal permission to challenge the Ritual of Fang and Feather.
“Hmm,” his mother said, her own tail twitching. “Well, now that I think about it, you haven’t begged to prowl the forest or go hunting with me lately, which you usually do several times a day, and you’ve been very good and obedient. What have you been doing all this time?”
“It’s not all about you anymore, Mother. I have my own story to worry about now, and there were things I needed to do,” he said, but in a polite, respectful tone.
“Oh? You haven’t been going into the forest alone, have you?”
He shook his head, his eyes half-closed, and then slowly said, “Of course not. You’ve taught me better than that.”
Kisari snorted and choked, chicha spilling back into her bowl, and then gave them a sheepish shrug when they both glanced at her.
His mother grinned. “I deserved that, but if not the forest, then what? Hmm, maybe instead you should come here and give your poor mother an embrace?”
Narune shuffled away from her even though he knew she was only nipping. She didn’t sift through his mind often, and when she did, it was after asking first. Usually as the result of Narune bargaining for a gentler punishment…
She shrugged. “Well, you know my thoughts about this.”
“And they are?” Kisari asked from his side, curious.
“That she won’t be as upset with me so long as I tell her what I did before she learns some other way,” Narune answered. He winced. “Sometimes it doesn’t really seem to matter, though.”
“Oi, that’s because it depends on what you did and how long you waited to tell me.”
“You should tell her,” Kisari said. “I don’t know why you don’t. She can’t hunt or prowl the forest right now, so she can come cheer you on instead. Ixchel will be joining you, so there won’t be anyone else besides me.”
“Kisari,” he said in a harsh whisper, elbowing her.
His mother’s eyes narrowed.
Well, she’ll be able to guess enough now, so I might as well. “I’m going to try and become a spiritseer.” He paused, then quickly added, “The cacica gave me permission to challenge the Ritual!”
His mother said nothing for a moment, but her frown didn’t soften. It deepened, in fact, and blended with her usual look of worry.
“What did she ask in return?” his mother quietly asked.
He exchanged looks with Kisari and she urged him on with a nod, so he said, “An oath; if I fail the Ritual, then I have to give up not only becoming a spiritseer, but also a warden or a warrior. It’s unfair, but...”
“And you gave her this oath?”
“Yes…?” he said, hesitant.
Again his mother fell silent, which he decided in that moment to be worse than an outburst of anger or frustration.
“Is there any way I can convince you to forget about all this?” she asked him. Then she laughed and shook her head, her gaze distant and thoughtful. “No, she’ll claim failure even if you don’t attempt it. Well, then. The Calling is today, the Feats tomorrow, and the Duels are the day after, yes?”
Narune frowned and nodded.
“I’m… too tired and pained to brave the spectacle of the Calling, but I’ll try to barter with Yabisi to come the other days. If not, well, I know you’ll excel in them. You're my son, after all.”
Narune rose, tail wagging, and grinned. “You're not upset with me?”
She gave him a sad smile. “No, my love. At least not with you. Go now. It's better to be early than late.”
He tilted his head, still unsure about his good fortune, but thanked his mother and readied to leave. After he dressed, knife at hip and warrior sandals tied securely to feet, Narune stepped out into the drizzle.
Kisari followed at his side, hands clasped behind her back.
They took their time walking across the stretch of coast between his bohío and Kayuya Village, avoiding the beach. The rain continued to fall, still a drizzle and still doing nothing to cool the heat, but at least it wasn't stormwater and fierce winds that fell on them.
“That wasn't so bad,” he said cheerfully.
Kisari looked at him. “Oh? It was very obvious that she didn't want you to go.” She paused and looked away. “Actually, I’m not sure why she didn't compel you. I was sure she would.”
“She never binds me like that,” he said, feeling the need to defend his mother. “In fact, she rarely compels me at all.”
“My mother does it,” Kisari said quietly. “All the time. When I was little, if she wanted me to be quiet, she would touch me and leave me hoping I’d be allowed to speak again that day.”
He paused and glanced over at her, unsure what to say. She turned to face him and met his gaze.
“That… is dark and terrible of her,” he said. It felt wrong to insult a mother, but it was the truth. “I’m sorry, Kisari. Your mother rarely leaves the village, so I don't know her, but I know I would’ve grown to hate Colibrí if she had used her power over me like that.”
“Well, I don't hate my mother, and I didn't mention it to milk pity from you,” Kisari shot back, just as defensively. “It’s… not as terrible as I made it sound, so don't worry. I just wanted you to know that you're lucky. Your mother could’ve been like mine.”
He stared at her, unconvinced. “Kisari...”
“You’re going to be late,” she said in a familiar tone. “And I won't sit and let you blame me for it. Let the drizzle wash away whatever dark thoughts you misplaced in that head of yours and come.” She hooked an arm through his and forced him to walk with her before he could say anything in return.
Narune allowed the awkward silence to remain all the way to the village.
The sentinels standing watch didn’t give them more than a glance. Kisari didn't even look back, but he admitted to being a little worried. They didn't release a guttural warcry and impale him as he passed though, and, silly as the thought was, Narune still let out relieved sigh.
Kayuya Village spanned around then, stretching across the River Guanasa. The motions of life could be found in every corner, with children playing between the bohíos and the tiled roads filled with Islandborn who were chatting or going on their way. A few of the Islandborn wore decorative sandals that weren’t meant for battle-footing, but everyone wore either breechcloths or sarongs in a wide range of styles and colors.
Kisari prodded him. “You look like a sprouting being given honey-sweets.”
“Well, this is my first time in the village,” he said. “Could I see your caney, maybe?”
She laughed and shook her head. “Oh no. My father is the warmaster, remember? It’s bad enough that I'm his daughter; I'm not sure he would tolerate another Halfborn there. I'm sorry.”
“Don't be. I understand.” He shrugged and paused to better deal with the overwhelming assault on his senses—the bustle of so many people and all the chattering voices and the smell of roasting meats and stone-baked maize flour in the air.
Kisari pulled at him until he resumed walking with her. “You’re looking for the Proving Grounds. Come, I'll show you. My father is its caretaker.”
They moved toward the River Guanasa together. The crowd parted before them, or so it seemed, but really it was more like a kind of unconscious flinching away from them.
Even so, no one actually paid them any attention until they drew near, then—as if ambushed—the Trueborn would jerk and leap back. Hard gazes eventually began to follow Narune and Kisari and his coyote ears soon began to twitch from all the gossip filling the air.
Narune didn't like what he heard.
Kisari, however, kept her gaze forward and her face emotionless. She didn't comment on anything they said, even when a few stray bits made him tense. Instead, she continued forcing him forward.
Then something careened into the side of his head—a small stone. Narune flinched and rubbed the spot, then frowned when his hand came away wet with blood. He whirled around to glare in the direction it had come from and found a trio of sproutlings laughing between some bohíos and a weapon maker, one of them looking smug.
Narune growled and they fled. Only Kisari’s firm grip on his arm kept him from chasing after them. He turned his glare on her instead, but she ignored it and dragged him forward.
“Don't let them bait you,” she said. “You’ll be blamed for anything and everything.”
“Even if it wasn’t my fault?” he demanded.
“Eh? Of course, Naru. We’re Halfborn; to them, it's a surprise when we behave and not the other way around.”
He felt his fingernails digging into his palms. “You and my mother always speak about this, but it's something else to see.”
Kisari shook her head. “This is nothing. Trust me.”
“Fine, but I still don't understand, Kisari. You're a good person and I try to be one too. What have we done to deserve any of this?”
“Nothing—yet. But the stories of the first Halfborn were dark enough that they birthed an equally dark oath.”
Narune frowned. He knew the tales surrounding the oath—one that had fractured the Islandborn into lessor shards, the Halfborn and Trueborn, and demanded that the tribes never again allow the Halfborn to exist.
But the Halfborn of old hadn’t even been called that during their lives. They had been revered as gifts from the forest and some had even believed the Halfborn would, at long last, give the tribes enough strength to break through the stretches of forest that had been forever lost to corruption, land that was swarming with halja.
Instead, the Halfborn had slaughtered most of the spiritseers and massacred warband after warband before finally being slain themselves. No one seemed to know what had really happened, but all the tales blamed the screams that cursed Halfborn, claiming that, somehow, they had gone so deep into the storm within their heads that they hadn’t been able to escape.
He and Kisari couldn’t hear the screams yet, but his mother could, and though they stole her focus sometimes, and left her with a headache more often than not, she’d never given him a reason to fear her.
Besides, the Halfborn of old had obviously known about the wrathful storm within their minds. Some had even willingly used the storm’s might to face halja, if the tales were true, and Sanemoro said that sages had been trying to make sense of their curse. Somehow, there had to be more to the story—he refused to belie
ve that he, his mother, and Kisari were destined to turn into mindless, bloodthirsty monsters.
“Because of that oath, we’re not even supposed to be alive, Naru.” Kisari continued with a careless shrug. “I hated that truth for a very long time until I realized it’s the same as with halja. A warrior doesn’t stop to ask a halja if it has done anything vile before slaying it, eh?”
He stopped her then, in the middle of the road, not caring who was watching them. His finger speared her chest. “We’re not beasts or halja. I don't like that comparison.”
“Neither do I, Naru,” she said gently, and seemed unmoved by his passion. “I hate it more than you could ever know, because you didn't have to live among those with such beliefs. But just as I can't convince you to trust that one halja might be different from all the rest, we can't convince them to trust us. Not until being wrong about us is no longer a surprise.”
He nodded slowly, then looked away. “True,” he admitted. How could he say she was wrong? His view of things was a bit different, but in a way, wasn’t proving that the Halfborn weren’t savage monsters still part of his dreams?
Narune felt like a sproutling, though, because he had foolishly believed the glory and prestige of her father, who was warmaster of all the Islandborn, had made things better for her. After all, Kisari hadn’t been exiled and forced to live out of sight and in shame, like he and his mother had.
Now he knew better. Narune sighed and said, “Let’s keep moving.”
Kisari gave him a smile and resumed leading the way toward the river where the place of duels and contests among warriors stood. Despite his sour mood, Narune couldn’t help but feel a jolt of excitement when the Proving Grounds finally loomed over the bohíos, a stone’s throw away from the river itself.
It was almost too much of a spectacle. The entire place was bordered by great limestone crags in a circle, each rooted deep into the ground, and between them stretched platforms and bridges. Rope ladders led up to the layers looking out over the arena, which was itself massive, the soil stamped flat and hard.
Cradle of Sea and Soil Page 6
