A Different Kind of Despair

by Nicole Martinsen

  Leo and Will made their way down this passage, with Marvin grudgingly falling into step beside me.

  "Come on," he said. "We'll have to make a stop at Purilo's. It's only an hour away."

  I did not know what a Purilo was, but I did have serious misgivings as I stepped underground. Leo and Will resealed the passage, and I felt a trill of fright once the last ray of sun disappeared.

  "This place is unnatural," I muttered, barely able to make out the shapes in the dark. I tripped over something and sucked in a startled breath.

  "Can you not see?" Marvin asked beside me.

  "You can?" I balked.

  "Since necromancers are born and mostly raised underground our eyes just adapted over time," Leo explained ahead of us. "Marvin, you might have to carry her. The passage only gets harder from here."

  "Marvin, carry?" Will snorted. "He couldn't even carry himself last time he was here."

  "I did some reinforcement surgery two years ago."

  Marvin didn't ask to pick me up; he just did. I flailed uncomfortably at first; I was tall for a woman, standing at six feet in height, and packing nearly 180 pounds in fat and muscle (or so Marvin said once, when he was running some tests on the tribe as a whole). It was normal for my kin to be built this way, but I still worried as Marvin was slight as far as our men were concerned.

  The Hikari had the leanest frames among the Four Tribes as we spent so much time running across the flat lands, breeding horses, and trading with merchants of the High Cities. Outsiders, while still thinking us barbaric, also considered Hikari to be the most civilized of our kind.

  Kurai, or those with Kurai blood, like Leo, were mountains unto themselves. Living in shadow of Drahk'onil, the High City of militaristic ophidians, demanded strength of the most primal kind in order to survive. Men and women were equal there in terms of sway, but ultimately decisions were made through contests of strength rather than cunning. They made their homes in the hollows of the mountain ranges, and were notorious for robbing and sacrificing any wanderer that could not hold their own against them.

  Akatsuki members were our dark-skinned relatives, and they sustained themselves by moving from one oasis to the next. They doubled as guides for travelers looking to find their way to the High City of Isoviel, and as peace keepers on the sands. In the past, long and bloody wars were waged by the High Cities in order to control the oases for their trade caravans until the Akatsuki grew weary of the struggle and finally took guardianship over the precious watering holes. The fighting stopped, for while no High City would cede resources to another, the Akatsuki represented a neutral party between them.

  Last but not least, we have Shinya, but I did not know much about them. Hardly anyone did. If my mother's words rang true, then they were a very strange bunch. Unlike the other Tribes, our Shinya kin did not travel as one large people, but often in very small groups. They preferred to blend with other cultures, their identities more whispered suggestions than bold flags of heritage. Supposedly, members were Ori'tua, or moon-marked, often bearing streaks of gray, silver, or white in their hair. They were a mysterious bunch. At the Feshoun Urah, they would camp on the outskirts of the festivities. While the other Tribes danced and made merry, Shinya people tended to keep to themselves and their beloved shadows.

  I gasped, "What are those?"

  Marvin tilted his head at the ceiling. "Those? They're glow worms."

  "I've seen worms. They're pink and slimy and live in soil. And they definitely don't glow."

  "This world is completely different from the one you're used to, Miraj."

  "I guess it is a pretty severe contrast to a topsider," Leo interjected.

  "Topsider?" I asked.

  "It's what we call the people who live above ground." I saw his outline huff over an obstacle in our descent. "I never really thought about it before, but I guess necromancers aren't very relatable to other people."

  Marvin laughed sharply at the observation. "I could have told you that!"

  "You weren't relatable among necromancers," Leo added. "Just let that sink in for a minute."

  I shifted my weight so I craned a bit closer to the back of Marvin's head.

  "You were an outsider among your kin?"

  "Outsider?" I heard the sneer in Will's voice. "Marvin is a living contradiction. Nethermountain hasn't seen a genius like him in at least three generations, yet he's a necromancer who's afraid of the dead."

  I couldn't wrap my head around such a concept. It's like being a fantastic swimmer for someone terrified of water.

  Marvin wasn't very popular among Hikari men, at least not at first. More than a couple refused treatment from him outright because he was too much of a stranger. It wasn't until an old rider was returning from a hunt that Marvin finally had a chance to show his skills.

  He lost control of his horse, flew off its back, and the impact broke two ribs and a hip in the process. At his age, some eighty odd years, most of us were of the mind that he was beyond saving. Marvin stopped us from delivering the mercy kill, had his tools on hand, and performed the necessary surgery to save the rider's life.

  Before then, the only reason to cut open a man or woman was either to remove the shaft of an arrow or ease the delivery of a gruesome birth. My mother stayed the hands of her horrified kin, and ordered all adults fourteen and older to watch Marvin work.

  He lit a bundle of herbs and waved it before the rider's nostrils, and his eyes grew glassy before weighing low. Those observing squirmed as he made his incisions, plying through layers of bloody flesh with more skill than our veteran hunters as they skinned and divided their quarry.

  It lasted a little over an hour. The patient awoke shortly thereafter, appalled yet amused by what had happened in his artificial sleep. It took two weeks for the skin to mend, three months for the hairline scars to fade, and half a year for the bones to be as strong as they were before the accident.

  Marvin had rescued a man we were convinced was beyond saving. While he never quite fit in, he earned our deepest respect on that day.

  Once again, I was so proud of him that my heart was on the verge of bursting as my stubborn kin offered their reluctant praise in light of his efforts.

  I tousled his dyed hair, earning a perplexed frown for my affections.

  "What was that for?"

  "Nothing, really."

  Marvin sighed, but did not press any further than that.

  "Hold up," Leo called back to us. "The entrance is around here somewhere."

  Marvin set me back on the ground, but took me by the hand to make sure I still had a guide in the darkness.

  While the glowworms above us were too few and high up to illuminate the world, they did remind me of starlight. I remained staring at the ceiling for that reason, perfectly content in the knowledge I was in good hands, marveling in the unexpected beauty of the unknown.

  "Found it!" Leo exclaimed, waving us forward. "It's pretty damn tight, so mind your head."

  Marvin put me in front of him, right behind Will. The crevasse we entered was indeed rather small. I couldn't stretch my arms without hitting both sides of the passage, and damp vegetation on the ceiling passed over my head, sending violent chills down my spine at their touch.

  "We're almost there," Marvin whispered.

  Light flooded the end of the path as soon as the words left his mouth. We quickened our pace, entering a great cavern beset with glittering gemstones.

  There was water here, a great pool of it so impossibly clear that I could see the tunnels and rock patterns underneath. Light reflected off its surface, bouncing off the shining facets of the cave.

  "Oooookay, here we are! Purilo's place," Leo announced.

  "Great," said Marvin. "Where do we go from here?"

  I stopped paying attention at that point, transfixed by the water bubbling up into a pillar behind us. It solidified in the shape of a bluish woman. Will was the first to notice her after me.

  "I think I just found our guide."
r />   Everyone looked at her.

  "JIKI!" Leo yelled, grinning from ear to ear. "How've you been?"

  But this woman... this rusalka did not return his enthusiasm. Instead her eyes did not leave mine, and I felt naked, as though she was peering into the deepest depths of my being.

  "S-s-shaman," she stuttered, dropping to one knee. "Why have you c-come to the Moor of Souls?"

  6: Koronos

  No one spoke after that. This rusalka lifted her head when I didn't respond to her question.

  "You are a Child of Ayasha, are you not?"

  "Yes," I said. "I am Miraj of Hikari, eldest daughter of late Shaman Mother Suna."

  There was nothing normal about the circumstances which I found myself at present. Hikari were people of the light and air, and I, daughter and perhaps the sole survivor of my people, find myself deep beneath the surface in the company of necromancers and conversing with spirits who seemed to know more about myself than I did.

  "Late S-shaman?" Jiki glided across the cavern floor, setting her clammy hands upon my face. I flinched at first, but was started by their warmth as the water ebbed across my skin. "C-child," she murmured, and in her milky, bloodshot eyes I saw great pity. "Truly, you've s-suffered these past few days."

  "Jiki," Marvin spoke this time, pulling me back by the shoulders. "Can you show us the way to Purilo?"

  "Yes," she said. "But Miraj comes with me."

  His grip tightened. "No. Miraj stays with me."

  Something cold and dangerous flared in her eyes. I couldn't see Marvin's face, but I felt a tremor of something equally terrifying running through the tips of his fingers. It made a stranger of this man for the brief instant I sensed it. All at once, I my nostrils were filled with the scent of something rotten and smoky. By comparison, the rusalka, with her warm watery touch, was preferable.

  I grabbed her hand without thinking.

  "Marvin," I said. "It's alright. She won't hurt me."

  I spoke with a conviction I did not understand, but I knew that what I said was true. Jiki would not hurt me. I did not know her character enough to trust her as an individual, but I trusted her ability to keep me safe.

  Jiki did not ask for further permission. She flicked her wrist towards a deeper inlet in the cavern. Puddles took on lives of their own, bobbing up and down as a guide.

  She wrapped her arms around me. "Miraj and I have much to discuss."

  I can't explain what happened after that; I can't even comprehend it.

  I glanced down for a fraction of a second to see that my skin had become clear -that I, for all intents and purposes, had become transparent. I could only spy Jiki's outline as she sprang back into the cavern pools. In her hands, we were beings comprised of energy and water, and she showed me the tunnels leading through the aquatic underground.

  The travel was practically instantaneous. She shot up into the air and reverted to her human form so quickly that I was left jarred by the experience. Jiki gracefully landed upon the wet surface.

  I flopped with a mighty splash.

  "Apologies, S-shaman," said Jiki, extending a hand. I took it and watched in amazement as this contact allowed me to rise until I was standing right beside her, the pool as solid as stone beneath my feet. The extra water, which soaked my hair and clothes, bubbled to the surface before rolling off, leaving me perfectly dry in the process.

  "Who are you?" I asked, awed. "How do you know so much about my people?"

  "I, too, was Hikari," said Jiki with a tiny smile. She led me back to solid earth, in a space that seemed more a fortress of stone than a natural formation. "S-some five hundred years ago, I was Jiki, daughter of Kavala, Sister Sage of Shaman Mother Iona."

  Sister Sage.

  This was a title given to the wisest of advisers to the Shaman Mother. The Sister Sage was the right hand, the sounding board, and the only one allowed to question or counter a decision made by the tribe head.

  I seldom saw my mother's Sister Sage, Galrin, but the few times I did I recall marveling at her ancientness. She was so wrinkled that I don't even think she could see on account of her drooping eyelids. Her skin was like old leather crinkled in a thousand different places. She often just sat there, staring into space with a long pipe hanging off her bottom lip, making musing sounds every so often to the empty air.

  "Sister," I smiled at the spirit, for dead or not, she was Hikari, and Hikari were kin regardless of their fate. "What business do you have with me?"

  "A c-c-concern," said the rusalka. I followed her to a sitting area carved within an alcove. She bid me sit somewhere on the cushions. I complied without a second thought. "You do not know what you are."

  Ire flashed across my senses.

  "I am Miraj, daughter of S-"

  Jiki raised a hand. "You know who you are, but not what you are. C-can you tell me what a S-shaman is?"

  "A leader."

  "If it were so s-simple," she began. "Then you would be 'leader' not 'Shaman'. Shaman is the reason I c-could travel with you as I did through the water. Shaman is the reason you knew I would not harm you. S-shaman is what you are, now that your mother is no longer."

  I felt something snap inside of me.

  It was not a great sound, like a mighty tree, but something much smaller, like a twig, or a dried piece of grass. It was the tiny hope I'd nurtured in my breast that somehow my mother had survived the culling of our kin. A hope that Jiki, and her frustrating words, had murdered through honesty.

  "Then no," I heard myself saying, the wretchedness I was supposed to feel finally catching up to me. "I don't know what it is to be Shaman."

  Jiki swept her arm before me, and I watched as water sputtered up from a newly formed hole in the ground. In the pressurized column I saw the face of a woman, her features indistinguishable apart from the soft lines of a female expression."

  "In the beginning, there was Ayasha," Jiki explained. "And from her womb s-sprang daughters four."

  I watched as four other faces appeared in the water totem, repeating the tale in sync with the rusalka.

  "Kurai of the Shadow Font. Hikari, Child of Light. Akatsuki of the Morning Sun, and Shinya of the Night."

  "Ayasha, Womb of the World, is keeper of life in all its incarnations," the rusalka concluded. "Her Daughters had the power to interact with the s-s-sentient forms of life, or the s-spirits of the land around them. They," said Jiki, "were the first Shamans. S-since then, their power transferred to their eldest s-surviving daughters upon death."

  I blinked.

  "Do you mean to say... I'm-?"

  "A direct descendant of Hikari, of Ayasha."

  I thought of my mother, but I couldn't see her reason for not telling me this. This betrayal by omission stung. She didn't tell me about my lineage. She didn't tell me about my father being a necromancer. How could a parent love their child and yet lie to them about matters so deeply connected to their lives?

  Jiki allowed me a minute with these thoughts. I knew she was gauging my reactions. I even knew that she didn't actually believe I could be so ignorant until now. It frustrated me to no end how I knew these things. They weren't even ideas, but fact!

  "Miraj," said the spirit. "Did your mother have any tattoos?"

  "Tattoos?" I wondered. "No-"

  -wait.

  Yes. She did.

  "On her back," I replied. "Like a tree. Its branches heavy with fruit."

  It was a symbol of peace and abundance. Jiki knew it, therefore I did as well, even though seconds ago I could barely recall its existence.

  "That was her kauna. Her path. All S-shamans have a kauna. It defines the parameters between them and the s-s-spirit world, how they can interact with us and c-call for our aid."

  "Do I have one?"

  She shook her head. "Kauna are engraved upon ascension. You need one, Miraj, or else s-spirits will be able to hurt you. I s-still have my human heart. My pride as Hikari. S-so you are s-s-safe with me, but I c-cannot guarantee you will be s-safe anywhere
else without your kauna."

  "So how do I get one?"

  "My mother instructed me on their making. I c-can do it, but you must decide what kind of Shaman you wish to become to determine your path."

  What kind of Shaman?

  I thought about my mother, missing her to the point of bitterness. Resenting her secrecy to the edge of rage. I thought of Kurai and spat upon the heritage I was so proud of, for believing in the lie that we could not fall apart since kin will not attack one another. We were family, and yet they mowed us down like weeds in the field.

  I took so much pride in being an adult, in being my mother's daughter that I never saw how wretched and spoiled I was by our prosperity and the love of my surroundings. I was so ignorant, so weak that I couldn't help but be angry.

  In fact, it was this weakness I was angry at my entire life -only now I could place a name to its source. Me. I was angry at myself all these years because, on some level, I understood how sheltered I'd been. And because of that weakness, I could only stand by as Hikari burned.

  "I've decided," I said to Jiki. "I wish to be powerful. As powerful as Ayasha herself."

  The rusalka opened and closed her mouth a few times, clearly having misgivings on my request. It was possible, however. She knew it, therefore I knew it as well.

  "There will be... drawbacks," she hesitated. "I c-cannot s-say what, exactly, but the s-stronger the kauna, the greater the risks."

  "I don't care," I said. "If it's so dangerous, I won't rely on spirits unless necessary. All that matters is that I'll have their strength for those times I need it most."

  Still, this did little to alleviate her worry, but Jiki finally relented to my will.

  I watched her gather a number of pure black vials of ink. She poured the dye into the water geyser in the middle of the space.

  "S-step into the pillar."

  "Will it hurt?"

  "Pain is the price of power, S-shaman. Do you want it or not?"

  I stepped into the column of water, but the liquid hovered above my skin instead of touching it. Only the tips of my hair grew wet in the stream, and I marveled at the sheer control Jiki possessed in order to maintain such an environment.