by Paul Kidd
“Food. We have found buried hordes of grain; more than we can carry. The village herds have also been discovered.”
“We shall leave the supplies. They will be useful during the first days of resettlement. Detail a hand of teams to remain here as a garrison.”
Daimïru signed to a Hand Captain, and the man instantly flew off to do the deed. Daimïru turned to the next cut on her quirt and gave a predatory smile.
“Aaaaaah yes, prisoners. We have found a single living female who had hidden in a wicker basket. She ‘bargained’ most prettily for her life; I think team sixteen is already half in love with her. I must admit, the girl does have a certain charm.”
“By all means bring her in! I shall be pleased to meet a living plains-dweller face to face. We shall send her off to her rulers with our demands.”
It had been a most wearying day. Zhukora stood and stretched her slender body in the sun, thinking suddenly of curling up in a bed of new-cut grass.
Lord Serpent suddenly hissed a warning in Zhukora’s mind.
*Someone watches! I feel hostility and power!*
Zhukora whirled and glared about the village square, seeing only flies and corpses. No danger lurked, no one hid beneath the trees; the only movement came from a single Skull-Wing warrior. He knelt across a female corpse, gently closed the woman’s eyes and bowed his head to pray.
Zhukora scowled and flipped her tail, annoyed beyond all reason. What did the boy think he was? A priest?
“You! You there! What are you doing?”
His skull mask jerked up. The painted wood ran gleaming wet with tears.
“Are you crying, man? What in Poison’s name is wrong with you? Come over here at once!”
Zhukora imperiously pointed one finger at the ground before her feet. The warrior detatched a necklace from the body at hisfeet, flipped out his wings, and suddenly Ka flew from the houseposts to surround him in a ball of swirling light.
Daimïru stood, her face screwing up in puzzlement.
“Zhukora? Zhukora! What’s he doing?”
Zhukora turned; the warrior was whirring high up into the air, spirits rising from ther houses to follow in his wake. The warrior dove off between the huts at an astonishing turn of speed. Zhukora ran a few steps forward and gulped like a landed fish.
“No!”
*I have smelled his soul before! He was near us in the battle of the fires!*
It must be the enemy officer. Zhukora gave a shout and punched her hands towards the sky. A titanic ïsha blast exploded through the trees. The bolt engulfed her victim in a screaming storm of flame.
The watching warriors blinked as the fugitive flipped his tail and sped from view. Zhukora could almost hear the creature’s derisive whoop of laughter. She stared at her smoking fists and felt her antennae sag.
“Serpent! What in Poison’s name is happening? Why didn’t he fall? Why!”
*The spirits shielded him. At that range the attack was easily blocked.*
“Blocked? Imbecile! Do you know how powerful a creature would have to be to oppose my power?”
*He had allies! Spirits of the village who used love to block the force!*
“And where did he get allies from? Where, hey?”
*Are you stupid, girl? Can’t you feel them screaming in the ïsha all around you?*
Zhukora went stiff and cold; suddenly she wreathed herself in coils of burning light. The Serpent spirit gave a scream and sobbed for mercy as she tore it with her claws.
~Never, ever show disrespect again! I own you. I rule you! You are mine to destroy or favour as I will!~
The girl gave the beast a jerk. Serpent sobbed and whimpered in her mind.
*How? How did you gain such power?*
~I am the future! You are the past. My triumph was inevitable. Obey me and our bargain holds. Displease me and I shall consume your very soul.~
Daimïru knelt at Zhukora’s feet and spread her wings.
“He might leave a trail. Shall we pursue?”
“No. Prepare the troops for departure. We’ve wasted time enough.”
“But leader! We can kill the officer. Deny them a resource!”
Zhukora looked into the air and gave a shrug.
“What can one man do against an army? How can one creature defy destiny? He is nothing. All that matters is The Dream.”
She signed briefly to her warriors. The alpine tribesmen filtered up into the air, leaving ashes swirling in their wakes.
Chapter Twenty One
Father Wind blew gentle breath across a wilderness of grass, and the hillsides rippled like the soft waves of the sea. Shadarii danced amidst the endless swirls of motion. She danced because she alone could know the sorrow in her heart.
Shadarii no longer needed to eat; sun and ïsha were her sustenance, and she had set aside all need for possessions, hate and greed. But the dance was still a priceless time all to herself. For a few precious moments she became Shadarii once again; not the Silent Lady all bathed in sacred light; not the healer or the teacher come to fill the world with peace. Only a young woman with eyes of shining green. Shadarii shed her silent tears and watched the rising dawn.
Kotaru!
Each dawn I remember you. With the setting of each evening sun, I polish bright my love.
I died with you, my love. I died there in your arms…
Finally the dance drew to an end, and Shadarii slowly wilted to the grass. Bright wings covered up her naked fur as she bowed towards the horizon.
The moment of peace was over. Shadarii felt a presence kneeling in the grass behind her, and gave a rueful sigh.
Kïtashii had taken to wearing the dress of the sea peoples. She went bare breasted, with nothing but a curtain of tiny cowrie shells dangling just before her groin. The new clothing suited her. The girl reverently bowed and let her scruffy tail stick high up in the air.
“Shadarii-Zha, a woman has come to see you. She has travelled for many, many days. She has brought her son to be healed. Shall I send them away until your dance is done?”
Never! Shadarii swiftly stood and swooped downhill to where her faithful ones were waiting in a circle; of all twelve pilgrims, only Mrrimïmei was absent.
A woman with an infant child knelt at their centre, her clothes stained from many days of travel. The woman kept her gaze riveted on the ground.
“Revered one, I am of Totrepa village. I am of the Lemon-Orchid lodge. My name is Fengahïl. I have come to beg the mercy of the Silent Lady.”
The woman’s strength was almost spent. Shadarii folded her against her naked breast, while Fengahïl muffled her misery in her fur and let the words spill out with her tears.
“He’s lame! It’s my fault, all mine! I conceived out of wedlock, and the spirits punished him for my sin!”
Shadarii gently rocked the woman to and fro. The son might be lame, but it was the mother who needed healing. The Silent Lady looked down at the little boy and shared a crafty wink. He stared up at her and grinned; a little imp of three summers old, grubby, thin and perfect. If he missed the use of his twisted foot, he barely seemed to show it.
Rotïka leaned forward from the circle of pilgrims and looked up into Shadarii’s gaze.
“Revered one, I fear that nothing can be done. The flesh has already set in shape.”
Fengahïl jerked in Shadarii’s grasp and let loose a dreadful moan.
“Please! Please, I beg you, don’t turn me away! I can pay - I really can! I have conch shells, beads… I’ll give you everything I have!”
Shadarii looked down at her in hurt. Fengahïl realised her mistake and clutched Shadarii’s arms.
“I-I’m sorry! Oh lady, please forgive me. Please, won’t you try? We have travelled for day and days…”
The boy giggled as Shadarii kissed his nose and plucked him high into the air. She reached down to touch his feet, smiling as she saw the ruinous club of flesh, then let him play with her antennae as she kissed his little chest. It was as though she saw
nothing imperfect in him at all.
“Lady, his foot! Don’t you see? It’s warped and ugly! He cannot run, he cannot stand. How can he grow and play when he’s a cripple?”
Kïtashii saw Shadarii’s smile and felt a brief twinge of despair.
“Revered one, the boy is lame. No one could have enough ïsha to re-shape such a limb.”
Shadarii set the little boy aside. She looked down at Kïtashii and carefully mimed her words.
<<ïsha comes from the world, Kïtashii. It is simply made from wonder.
<
<
Shadarii took Kïtashii by the hands and tried to lead her over to the little boy.
<
Kïtashii desperately tried to pull away.
“I can’t! Shadarii, you know I can’t!”
<
“It can’t be done!”
Shadarii gave the girl a long, sad look and left her standing in the grass. She lifted the little boy atop her shoulders, reaching out to take her patient’s mother by the hand. They wandered out across the grass to lose themselves in the caressing wind.
They strolled for an hour across the dunes beside the sea, lost in the wonder of the endless ocean waves. Shadarii walked her friends beside the glistening tidal pools, where they tickled the anemones and peered at ghostly little prawns. Fengahïl smiled down at her son and helped him hop across the beach. They played together, loved together; mother and son, united and inseparable.
Shadarii finally took her two companions by the hand and led them back to the village green. Her followers were busily netting baitfish by the shore while Kïtashii taught sea people Shadarii’s alphabet. Kïtashii dropped her scrolls of paperbark and goggled in amazement.
The little boy could walk!
“Shadarii, how? Where was the power hidden?”
Shadarii watched Fengahïl playing with her son, then looked down at Kïtashii and touched her on the nose.
<>
“You are Mother Rain on earth! You work miracles!”
<
Shadarii took her student by the hand and led her off beneath the village eaves. Housewives stood on ladders high above, wetting straw in buckets to make it pliable enough to thatch. Shadarii admired their nimble skill, deeply pleased by their economy of motion. Finally she raised her hands and shaped words for her little friend.
<
Shadarii clenched her hands, trying to find the words.
<
<>
Kïtashii’s eyes shone; she hung from Shadarii’s hands and stared up at her in adoration.
“Teach me! Teach me how you touch the world! I want to do it. I want to be like you!”
Shadarii walked along beneath the lodgehouse eaves.
<
“I can feel it! I can, I just know I can. I can feel everything!”
Shadarii gave a sidewise glance and smiled as a water bucket mysteriously teetered overhead. It spilled across Kïtashii’s head with an almighty splash. Shadarii whistled between her teeth and looked innocently at the sky.
<
***
In the dark of night, moonlight caught the barest ripples in the surf. Shadarii flew alone above the waves, enjoying the utter solitude. There was nothing quite like flying alone along a beach at night; the salt breeze whistled through her wings, and spray hissed in her ears whispering of times gone bye.
Lady Starshine looped and curled about her, dancing to the currents in the ïsha breeze. The Ka glowed, and soft words spilled into Shadarii’s mind like summer rain.
*Thou art very quiet tonight, my child. Did the healing of the little boy not please thee?*
~My heart is heavy. Forgive me; I am the only company you have. I neglect you shamefully.~
*A thousand years of silence makes one rather self reliant. However, I do feel responsible for thee. Why not let me help to bear thy burden? Tell me what is wrong.*
Shadarii closed her eyes and let the stars stream through her hair.
~I am failing even before I have begun. I meant only to preach messages of love. Now Mrrimïmei hates me. I’ve lost her love and I don’t know why.~
*Aaaaah, is that all that ails thee?* The spirit coiled above, twinking with countless pastel lights. *The girl is upset. She adored your lover Kotaru. She feels you have betrayed his memory by teaching what you teach.*
~But what I teach is right! It is true!~
*Tell me then, what do you teach? What do you believe, Shadarii? I want to hear you speak of it.*
Shadarii let herself drift down onto the shore. She lay back on the sand and let Father Wind blow through her fur.
~Today we wrote a tale down in the “Book of Offerings”. A parable I had invented. It was a story about fleas upon a chieftain’s rump. Would you like hear it?~
*Yes Shadarii. Tell me thy tale.*
The girl gazed into the sky and let the words form in her mind.
~There were black fleas and there were brown fleas, and all lived in harmony upon the rump of an important chief. They bit and romped all through his fur, and had a perfectly splendid time. They chased away the bedbugs and killed off ticks and lice. The chief was healthy and the flea tribes prospered deep inside his fur.
As time went by the chief grew somewhat thin, and there seemed to be less of him to go around. The fleas had grown so numerous that they had made the poor man ill. Fleas began to fight and tousle, battling for food. Finally it was obvious that something must be done. Delegates from both flea tribes held a solemn council.
“There is not enough room for all of us! Fights are breaking out. Let us make a solemn covenant with our neighbours to avoid any further battles. We shall make a dividing line. The black fleas may have everything below the chief’s waist, and the brown fleas everything above.”
To avoid conflict, the fleas separated their two kinds, and for a while their lives proceeded in peace. Finally, however, discontent began to brew. The black fleas started to grumble. Whenever the chief bathed his tired old feet, dozens of fleas were drowned. And they were always in the shade! Where was the sun they used to love? The brown fleas had cheated them!
Above the waist, the brown fleas were also dissatisfied with their lot. The chief had dandruff, and this made their homes a mess. They thought wistfully of warm days spent down in the old chief’s nether regions and slowly filled with spite. The black fleas had tricked them! The best terrain had all been stolen.
Both groups of fleas prepared for battle. They sucked more blood in order to grow big and strong. They bred and multiplied to lend numbers to their armies. The old chief’s spine echoed to the tramp of tiny feet. Gongs and dru
ms rattled in his ears all night. A mighty war raged back and forth across his mangy hide. The chief tossed and turned and scratched and groaned, his skin flaming out in pain. Finally the old man’s heart could take the stress no longer. He kicked up his heels and died at last.
Meanwhile, on a battle ground behind the dead man’s ear, the black fleas were finally victorious. They danced across the bodies of their foes and rubbed their little feet in glee. Finally the whole chief’s hide was theirs!
Alas, it was all to no avail. The villagers made a great funeral pyre and reverently sent their chief into the arms of Mother Rain. And every single flea went with him, right down to the smallest little nit…~
Starshine seemed to hemm and haww as she mulled Shadarii’s tale.
*Quite charming I’m sure, but what is the moral?*
~I suppose the moral is that they should have tended to the old man’s needs. It is a story about our forest, you see. It was dying, and all we could do was steal from one another. The fleas died because they were too stupid to do something positive~
The girl hung her head and gave a miserable sigh.
~Am I doing anything positive? I just don’t know.~
Lady Starshine assumed a matronly air inside Shadarii’s head.
*Thou art a funny creature. Thou’st failed to listen to me all this time, and now thou come’st for help. I must say, it’s high time someone listened to me!*
Staring out across the star-tossed sea, Shadarii felt sharp pangs of despair.
~What? What am I doing wrong? I have healed the sick, my message is spread. Why can no one see? Violence feeds upon itself. Once upon a time I fought to try and win people’s respect. I thought punching Javïra would solve all my pain. I was a fool! Respect is won through love, and not through fear. If I had refused to strike her, even to have asked her for another blow, perhaps I would have shown more strength and won her over as my friend.~
