by D. Moonfire
blade before it came down. She caught it neatly. Tossing it back up, she said, “There is nothing wrong with you, little brother.”
He blushed at the name. She only called him brother when they were alone. It was a private form of affection, almost forbidden from a warrior who had to sever all ties of her own family.
Chimípu caught the blade with her other hand. “You’re just different. That day on the sand, when you saved Mikáryo’s life? Something changed in you. I saw you.” She smiled and flipped her knife hard, and it shot up into the sky in a streamer of golden flames. “You became a man that day, but not in a way that me, Desòchu, or anyone else thought you would.”
“I still wonder if I did the right thing.”
Chimípu stood up. “No, you did the only thing you could do. And that is why I stood behind you and why you will always be my little brother.”
He smiled sheepishly. “Thank you, Chimípu.”
She stepped away from the stone, swinging her foot in a wide sweep before heading down the stairs.
Rutejìmo pushed himself up along the rock, scraping his back on the sharp edges. “Going to Pidòhu’s?”
Chimípu stopped and looked over her shoulder. There was a sad and hopeful look on her face. “Do you want me to stay?”
Warriors like Chimípu served the clan in many ways; one of them was to provide companionship for those who needed it. It could be a shoulder to cry on, company over a meal, or warmth in a bed. It was rare that they had to spend a night alone.
He knew what she was offering. She and Pidòhu spent much of their time together, but Rutejìmo had seen her visit the other unmarried bachelors in the valley. All the warriors did. For those like Rutejìmo, who had never had a woman in his bed, it would be an educational night. It was also expected that he would spend the night with her before he got married to another woman.
But as he looked into her questioning eyes, all he could remember was the sound of her fist hitting Tsubàyo’s face. She had beaten him to the edge of death because he dared to attack her clan. It didn’t matter that Tsubàyo had grown up with Rutejìmo and her, when he became a threat to the Shimusògo, Chimípu had defended the clan without hesitation. The brutal, visceral sound haunted him like everything else from that day.
Chimípu turned and walked up to him with a sad look on her face. She stopped next to him and rested two fingers on his lips. Her fingertips were rough and calloused.
He froze, the pulse beating in his ears.
“No matter what anyone says, it will happen when it’s ready. Don’t worry about your brother,” she lowered her fingers to tap against his snake tooth, “or Mikáryo. When you are ready, just ask. I’ll be there.”
Tears welled in his eyes. He smiled. “Thank you, Mípu.”
Chimípu stepped away and headed down the trail. She didn’t run like she always did, and he knew she was stalling.
He could just call out for her and ask her back. She would come back, not just because it was her duty to the clan, but because he needed her. However, as he watched her strolling down the trail, all he could think of was the sound of her fist striking her enemies.
Rutejìmo closed his eyes for a long time. He turned and walked back into his cave, not daring to open his eyes until he was once again in the comforting dark.
Corrupting Influence
The rules of society are not set down in sand or rock, but in the minds of everyone watching.
—Melanin Som, Sunlight Dances (Act 2, Scene 2)
Rutejìmo and Hyonèku chased Shimusògo across the desert, racing after the bird they could never catch. The dépa’s magic solidified the shifting sand and their bare feet slapped against rock no matter what terrain they crossed. As soon as their feet picked up, the rock crumbled into a dust plume that stretched far behind them.
Home was only a mile away. Rutejìmo could see the two pillars with massive banners hanging from each one. In the middle, he spotted flashes of oranges, reds, and yellows. He didn’t know why there were so many of the residents of the valley outside of the valley.
A massive shadow sailed out of the valley. It was a giant raptor, a bird of prey that stretched chains across. It didn’t matter, but he still looked up into the clear blue sky. No natural bird could create the shadow, and nothing blocked the sky. It was a shadow without physical form, Tateshyúso.
Hyonèku laughed. “Pidòhu must have an announcement.” Even though the wind whipped across their faces, they could easily hear each other while running.
Rutejìmo grunted and continued to run in a straight line. He didn’t dare slow down, lest he lose both the speed from Shimusògo and the rapture that came with his closeness to the spirit.
The shadow circled around them and then came up behind them. As it did, the heat against their skin cooled in an instant. Cold winds buffeted them from all directions, disrupting the constant pressure against their faces. The plume of dust and sand broke apart, scattering in the shadow.
Rutejìmo almost stumbled without the constant pressure pushing him back. He caught himself and forced his feet forward. The power of Shimusògo remained strong in Tateshyúso’s shadow, but without the wind and choking dust.
A mirage rippled in front of them. It looked like the shadows spun a humanoid form from the strands of darkness.
Both Hyonèku and Rutejìmo continued to run.
The shadow grew thicker and darker until it was a dark burn in the world. Peeling back, a translucent figure of a frail-looking man appeared in front of him. He remained in front of them, floating across the sands a respectful distance ahead of the Shimusògo.
“Great Shimusogo Rutejìmo.” He bowed deeply before turning to Hyonèku. “And to you, Great Shimusogo Hyonèku.”
Hyonèku laughed and shook his head. Proper etiquette demanded Pidòhu address Hyonèku first, but among friends, occasionally other relationships took precedence. And while Hyonèku was one of Rutejìmo’s friends, Pidòhu shared a bond with Rutejìmo that was far closer.
The shadow of the frail man bowed again. “Just so you know, Great Shimusogo Mapábyo just arrived home.”
The use of “Great Shimusogo” spoke volumes. Hyonèku stumbled and then laughed. “Yes! Bless the sands!”
“She is injured though, so be—”
“I don’t care!” Hyonèku jumped and spun around before racing to catch up with Rutejìmo. There was a huge grin on his face.
“And, Jìmo?”
Rutejìmo looked at Pidòhu, his eyes trying to focus through the translucent man.
“Your brother is quite annoyed with you.”
Rutejìmo frowned. “What? Why?”
Pidòhu bowed deeply with a smirk. His body wavered, and then Tateshyúso’s shadow shot forward, taking Pidòhu with it. The sun bore down on them again, the wind buffeting Rutejìmo’s face.
Rutejìmo glanced at Hyonèku. “What was that about?”
The dépa they were both chasing shimmered and split in two with a burst of golden feathers. One of them grew accelerated and headed straight for the entrance of the cave. It grew translucent and difficult to see; Rutejìmo knew that Hyonèku would follow it while the one in front of Rutejìmo would disappear from his sight.
Hyonèku raced forward, a broad grin on his face. His casual speed reminded Rutejìmo how quickly the rest of the clan could outpace their slowest runner.
Rutejìmo glanced at the rapidly approaching valley. In the few seconds of running, he could easily see dozens of folk running and dancing between the two pillars. Burning rocks launched into the air in random patterns, bouncing when someone caught the flaming shots and threw them back up. Each time the rocks were tossed, they glowed brighter. Even from his distance, he could identify some of the warriors because their rocks shot ten times higher and were brilliant stars that arced high above the valley entrance before plummeting.
The clan was celebrating.
Rutejìmo needed more time before he joined the celebration. The idea of everyone talking, dancing, and celeb
rating didn’t appeal to him. Taking a deep breath, he slowed down and let Hyonèku shoot out ahead of him. The wind behind the older man slammed into Rutejìmo, peppering his face with sand and rocks.
He ran alone for a few minutes before coming to a stumbling stop.
Shimusògo faded from sight, and Rutejìmo’s feet sank down in the gravel of a stretch of scree. The heat bore down on him and he took a deep breath to clear the searing sensation from his lungs. When he wasn’t running, he felt the aches and pains that Shimusògo’s magic pushed away. It was the price of walking when he could be running, but Rutejìmo couldn’t bear to accelerate again. He headed up the ridge of a dune and then followed it while dark thoughts clouded his mind. Sooner or later, they would move the celebration into the valley.
By the time he reached the entrance of the valley a half hour later, there was no one waiting. He used the back of his arm to wipe the sweat from his forehead and padded inside. It was quiet in the narrow gap between the steep rocks, but the noise of a party echoed loudly when he reached the entrance.
He kept to the side and headed up one of the paths leading to the home caves. As he walked, he peered into the floor of the valley. Someone had built up a bonfire, and the flames burned green in celebration. Many of the younger folk were dancing around the flames. He noticed that Desòchu was right in the middle, swirling around everyone and keeping spirits high. For now, he had most of his clothes on, but there were others already stripped in celebration.
His
