Daughter of Ninmah

by Lori Holmes

  * * *

  Nyri rolled over with a groan after what felt like mere moments. Ninsiku’s squinting eye was riding high overhead. It was time. She rose silently, cursing in her exhaustion that she had a Forbidden in her care that needed feeding. Kyaati was sleeping deeply. It wouldn’t hurt to leave her now. Just to be sure, Nyri touched her fingers softly to her friend’s temples and pushed her into a deeper level of unconsciousness. Reassured that she would not wake, Nyri stole from her tree and into the black outer forest, flitting around the patches of silver light where Ninsiku’s searching stare touched the ground. Dangerous.

  It took her longer to reach the Pit than usual. The sentries were even more vigilant at night than they were in the early morning. There were tense moments where Nyri could do no more than lay low in the undergrowth until the eyes of a watcher had moved away. Her practice was beginning to pay off, however, and finally she got away.

  “Juaan,” she whispered into the surrounding blackness of the Pit once she had climbed down. He was cloaked to her, his presence too murky to pinpoint. “Juaan?”

  “Khalvir.” His voice floated from the darkness. Bodiless. The hairs rose on Nyri’s neck. His voice was deeper than any man of her tribe. It had never bothered her until this moment. Detached from the sight of his familiar face, the sound of it was terrifying. The only voice she had heard deeper than this…

  Suddenly, Nyri was back inside another dark night. She could almost smell the smoke, feel the sear of heat on her flesh… you do nicely… Nyri shivered, her skin crawled over her body. She balled her trembling hands into fists, screwing her eyes shut against the memory of the Wove demon. Her breathing quickened.

  A touch on her shoulder. She flinched violently.

  “It’s all right,” the deep voice said. Nyri spun around and stared up into green eyes. The fear fled. Quite suddenly, she felt as safe as anyone could ever be. “Don’t be alarmed, elf. I promised I would not hurt you.” He lifted his long hand away from Nyri’s shoulder and held both up in the air to demonstrate his meaning.

  She recovered herself. “Nyri.”

  “Khalvir, then.” He turned away, morphing into the blackness once more. Nyri heard the soft scraping of rock that told her he had lowered himself to the ground. She followed carefully. Not carefully enough. She trod on something soft. “That was my foot.”

  “Well,” Nyri danced backwards clumsily and landed the soft part of her foot on a loose stone. “Ow! Don’t clothe yourself in damned black, then.”

  A soft noise. He was chuckling to himself. “I don’t have much choice, really. It’s either that or go naked down here.”

  Nyri flushed scarlet. “If you were Ninkuraaja, I’d know exactly where every part of you was without having to see you.”

  “Truly?” He sounded intrigued. “You cannot sense me, then?”

  “Well, I can to a certain degree, but not exactly.” Nyri sat down carefully, as close to him as she dared. “It’s like a part of you… an energy… for want of a better word, is not there or lies dormant, if you see what I mean.”

  “Not really.”

  She sighed. “It is hard to explain. How do you describe seeing to a blind man?”

  “How indeed.” Nyri could feel him appraising her in the dark. She could barely see him. Experimenting, she pulled out the gora root she had brought and held it out to the darkness. He took it deftly from her fingers confirming that his eyes were far superior to hers.

  “Not this again,” he complained.

  “Eat and be grateful.”

  He grumbled to himself but chewed in silence. She guessed he had learned from her last visit that food was a prickly subject and best left alone.

  A strange chirping whistle came floating through the air. Nyri lifted her head. “What is that?” she wondered out loud, listening for it again. “I’ve never heard such a bird before.” She then remembered that she had heard it once before, days ago as she had left the Pit. This must be the new bird that Javaan had spoken of.

  Juaan simply shrugged and made no answer. He closed his eyes, appearing pained.

  “So, what have you been up to today?” Nyri cringed as soon as the words were out. What a ridiculous question. But the silence had started to stretch and she had felt compelled to break it.

  “Not climbing if that’s what you’re worried about.” She could almost see the sardonic twist to his mouth.

  Nyri snorted. “I’m always worried. You’re just the latest on top of a great pile of concerns.”

  A sudden howl split the air in the distance, long, mournful and piercing. Juaan was on his feet in an instant but Nyri remained seated, unperturbed.

  “It’s only the wolves,” she said softly. “They are hunting.”

  “That’s what scares me.” Nyri could feel his tension faintly on the air.

  “They do not hunt us. The wolves, like every Child of the Great Spirit, KI, are our cousins and teachers. They do no harm.”

  “Not to you, perhaps, with your elf magic. But I have known those beasts to take the old and the very young and devour them if the strong are not watchful. They are one of our most bitter enemies and we will kill them in turn.”

  Nyri was sickened by the cold telling of such savagery. “The Woves are the unnatural creation of Ninsiku. I’m not surprised KI sends his Children to kill them. All of Ninsiku’s creations are bloodthirsty abominations. They are not the people of Ninmah. They do not have the Gift. They do not hear.”

  “There is nothing to hear! Believe me, I do not take pleasure in killing but there is no choice. It is us or them. They cannot be reasoned with, only their savage hunger drives them. They cannot speak. They do not think!”

  “Of course they do! They speak with the voice and truth of the earth. How can you look at everything around you and say there is no thought behind it? The world is alive with the greatest of intelligence. We are blind to it unless we learn to use Ninmah’s Gift to us. The Woves are the ones who do not know how to speak. They are monsters, abominations on the earth and they have blinded you, too. You used to understand.”

  He ignored the allusion to his forgotten past as was becoming his wont. “Who is this KI?” he asked instead. “And Ninmah and Ninsiku? More elven superstition?”

  One part of her hated his disrespectful tone. He was a complete stranger to her in these instances and she loathed it. It made her feel like Juaan was truly lost, replaced only by her enemy, by Khalvir. The other part of Nyri jolted, struck dumb by the question. “You do not know of Ninmah or Ninsiku?” That was not possible. They were the very fabric of the heavens. She wondered if he could be trying to trick her in some way. “You do not know who Ninsiku is? He is the very power that created the Woves.”

  “Well if he did he’s kept very quiet about it.”

  Nyri frowned deeply. Suddenly restless, she got to her feet and began to pace the dark. She rubbed her forehead, thoughts racing. He was lying. He must be lying. But why?

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “You must know Ninsiku,” Nyri hissed. “It is the Woves who give him his power. It is they who are providing him with the strength to overthrow Ninmah, to mindlessly wipe us out, and bring about the End of Days where eternal cold and darkness hold sway.” Nyri had always believed this truth with all her heart, she had been taught it with her first breaths. Baarias’ words came whispering back to her. Niggling. She shook her head to clear it. No, Juaan was lying and Baarias was wrong. The Woves were demons.

  He shook his head. “I have never heard of Ninsiku. We do not do his bidding, nor do we worship him.”

  Nyri ran her hands through her hair. “Then why are we suffering? It has only happened since the Woves arrived. If Ninsiku does not command them, why do they hunt us? Why do they come and take our young, as the wolves come for theirs, to devour in the night?”

  He gave a short incredulous laugh. “We do not ‘devour’ you. What a ridiculous notion. Is that what you believe?”

  “What else are
we supposed to believe?” Nyri shot back. “The Woves come, they burn our homes, they kill and kidnap. Flesh eaters! If they do not devour us, if Ninsiku does not send them, why do they come?”

  He was silent for a while, studying his hands. “You truly do not know?”

  “What is there to know? All we know is that they come and kill us.”

  He shook his head again and dropped his hands. “Please, sit,” his voice was placating now. “Talk to me. Who is KI? We know little of your superstitions.”

  Nyri stared suspiciously in his direction, trying to calm herself down. “That’s a very long story,” she growled out, irritated.

  He snorted. “It’s not like I’ve got anywhere to go thanks to you. What do you think I have to do between your little visits? At least give me something to think about.”

  Nyri sighed impatiently. Try as she might, she could not see what harm it would do to humour him a little. He must be lonely down here, Nyri realised. Whenever she left him, she had so much else to think about. He was right. What did he have to do but sit and stare at these stone walls awaiting his captor’s return? She glanced upwards. The night air was sharp. Ninmah’s rise was still far off.

  “Is KI your people’s guiding light?” he prompted.

  “KI is everything,” Nyri replied, settling back down by his side, her tone became hushed as she spoke. “He is the Great Spirit of the earth. He exists in the rocks and the ground beneath our feet. He lives in the trees that surround us. He moves as the wolf and the deer. He is Life itself.”

  “Ah,” the man beside her said thoughtfully. “And how do you know this? Do you see him?”

  “Feel him is probably a more apt description. Though… when I am still, with my eyes closed, I usually see him as a golden energy flowing through everything that exists. Everything is a part of the great river that flows through the earth.”

  “Interesting,” he murmured. “Does that include you and I?”

  Nyri shook her head. “We are different. We are not the Great Spirit’s children. The Ninkuraaja are the people of Ninmah, the great Queen and Healer and she made the essence of the Great Spirit a part of us. She alone knew how to give her people Sight. Only by using Ninmah’s Gift are we able to glimpse the Great Spirit, to learn and look after his secrets. Ninmah made us for that purpose.”

  “Ninmah’s gift?”

  Nyri sighed. She would have to tell the whole tale. Settling herself as comfortably as possible she began. He listened patiently to the story of her people’s beginnings. He was a surprisingly good audience and Nyri enjoyed weaving the tale for him. She found the tension leaving her. It was as much of a distraction for her as much as it was for him. Nyri sang the song of how Ninmah brought the first Ninkuraa, Ninsaar, into being. It was her favourite. “Ninmah’s Gift is our higher being,” Nyri concluded, “a connection between mind and soul. Ninmah showed us how to reach out to the Children of the Great Spirit and his world by using his essence to create the Ninkuraaja soul.” Nyri placed a hand over her heart. “We are blessed to be able to hear the Great Spirit’s song.”

  Nyri could just make out his face in the dimness. He almost looked like her Juaan sitting there, watching her with a faint smile. For the first time, his face was devoid of suspicion or hostility. His voice was filled with a soft wonder that was for her alone. “You tell a good story. It’s… nice… listening to your voice.”

  Nyri could not take her eyes from his. She suddenly wanted very much to reach out and touch his face, to stroke his cheek; her fingers tingled with the need. She saw his hand twitch where it lay next to him on the ground and Nyri fancied that he was fighting the same compulsion. Her breath caught.

  In the distance the wolves were still singing. “Listen,” she said, tearing her gaze away as the pack’s voices came together in a harmonious cacophony of sound. The power and the wildness of it thrilled through her heart, the hairs prickled on her skin. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Can’t you hear Him?”

  “No,” he whispered back, his voice strangely rough. “You said we ‘Woves’ are Ninsiku’s creation? And you believe us to be evil.”

  Nyri nodded stubbornly. “Yes they are. Ninmah’s brethren created their own peoples but none had the wisdom of Ninmah and their children were born Blind. They could not know the Great Spirit. They were made powerful in other ways. Ninsiku was Ninmah’s mate and he grew full of jealousy and spite. He resented the perfection of Ninmah’s creation and created the Woves with dark energies to oppose her people. They are nothing but evil spirits clothed in flesh.”

  Juaan gave a sad half smile. “I suppose I can see why you would have come to believe that.” He looked Nyri in the eye. “And what do you think now? Do you still see me as an evil spirit clothed in flesh? I am one of your ‘Woves’. What do you think now?”

  Nyri shook her head. “You are no Wove, Juaan. They took you and made you their servant. Your mother was a Ninkuraa. Your father was…” Nyri trailed off, frowning. A Cro, he had claimed once. She had no idea who they were. She thought of the girl in her vision, Ariyaana, her features so strikingly similar to Juaan’s own. Nyri realised that she too must carry the blood of this mysterious race. Perhaps if she could find out who they were, she would know where to look for the girl.

  Juaan had turned his face to the sky at her mention of his true parents. He was still refusing to believe her version of his past. “What became of Ninsiku and Ninmah?” he asked, changing the subject before it led to an argument.

  “Ninsiku came to destroy us and Ninmah fought him. The power of their battle would have destroyed the earth. Ninmah saw that the only way to make us safe was to leave with her erstwhile mate. She imprisoned him in the heavens and exiled herself along with him to forever hold his dark power in balance. For time out of memory, they have continued to chase one another through the sky. Ninmah’s spirit appears as the Golden Mother by day until she has to give way to Ninsiku. The night is his.” Nyri pointed warily to the silver crescent in the sky. “His eye watches us in the darkness, surrounded by the lights of the souls he has stolen. We are best to avoid him lest he see us and send his dark servants.”

  Juaan rose to his feet. Nyri heard the softest of footsteps before he stepped into a pool of Ninsiku’s light that had spilled into the Pit. He was bathed in silver, every feature thrown into sharp, haunting relief. Where there usually sat the beloved green eyes, there were now only emotionless pits, making him appear like a true skull-headed Wove. Nyri shrank away, fearful.

  “This is your Ninsiku?” He raised a hand before him, studying the play of light and dark upon it.

  “Yes,” Nyri whispered. “He sees all. Ready to steal away the unwary.”

  Juaan frowned and moved out of the chilling light with a shrug. “Best not to be caught in his stare then.” He sat beside her again, closer this time. “I never realised what interesting beliefs you elves had.”

  “What beliefs do the Woves have?” Nyri whispered. “What powers do they possess?” He had not heard of Ninsiku. Perhaps the Woves knew him by a different name.

  Juaan was silent for a long time, considering. “Our beliefs are not entirely dissimilar. We believe that our people were created by gods that came from the sky. Our people were created by Ea to serve him as yours were created by Ninhursag, his twin sister of the Sky. But unlike you, we don’t believe our creators left for our best interests. They abandoned us.

  “In our legends, they left to live in the mountains where no man can tread and forsook all contact, aside from descending occasionally to kidnap women. We had grown tiresome to them. Yet still we continued to cling loyally to the wisdom they had taught us for many generations. But then the Great Winter came and nearly wiped us all out. Ea did not return. Lost and without hope, we turned our backs on the teachings of the traitorous gods. It served us well and we have grown strong enough to survive without them. But, once again, the world is shifting.” Juaan gave a bitter laugh and his expression grew sad. “I’m sorry to shatter your cozy
illusion of blame, but we have no power to lend a supposed god who brings the cold, elf. We pray for Ninmah, as you call her, to regain strength and push back the winter. But she does not listen any more than Ea. Perhaps we are being punished for having the audacity to survive when they clearly did not wish it but, either way, I fear the world we know is dying and there is nothing that you or I or anyone else can do to stop it.”

  Nyri did not respond, what he had just revealed was too great to take in. It went against everything she had ever believed. As she listened to the wolves’ song, she tried to cling to what she heard there. A single point of focus in the turmoil of uncertainty.

  “When will you be back?” he asked when she eventually rose to leave. The tone in his voice was one she had not heard before. It did not hold the bitter resentment it usually did, instead there was a note of longing, as if he were genuinely worried about when he would see her again.

  The need to reach out and touch him was stronger than ever before but Nyri resisted, folding her fingers firmly into fists. “Tomorrow night.” She could not bear the thought of being away from him any longer than that. “Wait for me.”

  A smile tugged at his lips. “For as long as these walls stand… Nyriaana.” His face became serious, almost pleading. “Keep the wolves close.”

  Her heart had skipped a beat at the sound of her name on his lips and she barely heard the rest of what he said. Dazed, she clambered up her root, feeling his eyes on her back the whole way until she summited the wall of the Pit and disappeared.

  She traveled a fair way into the trees then paused, attempting to return her pulse to normal. Nyriaana. He had said her name. A shiver ran down her spine and it took her a moment to realise that she was standing with the most foolish grin stretching across her face. Nyriaana. Her smile widened.

  She was so distracted that she almost missed the presence that brushed against her senses far to her right. Her smile vanished.