Windwalker_Forbidden Flight

by H. J. Bellus

  It is not fair! her mind shouted back with indignant rage. The firestorm of emotion battled with her shame as she wrestled with her limited options. Fight for her dream—what was rightfully hers—and ruin her family, or give in. Admit fault. Shame herself to the point where she could never look another in the eyes again.

  Kiva had never been one for humility. She saw it as weakness; something others would use for exploitation. She sat up and rested her forehead on the palms of her hands. Her heart ached fiercely, and her stomach filled with anxious butterflies as she realized the path she must take.

  There was no choice but to admit fault. Kiva could live with putting her own future in jeopardy, but not her family’s. Even so, she would rather die than face her people again, after seeing the hate in their eyes. Following the council trial, no matter the outcome, she would choose a life of exile. The conclusion was a great weight that rested upon her shoulders, but there was some relief in having come to a decision.

  After the trial, she would never see her parents, Mica, ever again. A tear rolled down her cheek as she realized that she would even miss Amir’s complaints.

  What’s done is done, she told herself in an effort to remain strong.

  She looked down at the tray of fruit and dried meat, and pushed it away.

  A sudden light clack came from her left, and Kiva looked up to find that the moonlight streaming through her window was completely blocked. She immediately stood, furrowing her brow. Something small dropped in through the round hole in the stone wall, and whatever had been blocking the light was suddenly gone.

  I am hundreds of feet up, she thought. What could have…

  There was something on the floor below the window. Kiva walked over and found a rolled lizard skin, tied with a small cord. She cautiously knelt down and picked it up, turning it over.

  5

  Out and Up

  Kiva poked her head out of the window, and found only the vast, open desert. The rocky walls of Madina Basin stretched vertically above and below, lit by pale moonlight. Kiva untied the cord, and the skin unraveled. A black iridescent feather floated out from it, sailing back and forth as it drifted to the ground.

  Kiva bent down and picked it up. A chill ran down her spine. Who would—

  There was something scratched into the animal skin. Kiva held it up to the moonlight.

  out and up

  Out and up? Kiva re-read it several times, then looked back toward the window. It was large enough for her to fit through…barely. But we’re on the desert side, she thought. There was no telling how treacherous or high a climb would be.

  She began to climb out, then paused, remembering her decision to be responsible, for the sake of her family. She pulled her head back in, and looked down at the feather in her hand, remembering that feeling of flight she’d experienced during the windfaith trial.

  Her eyes switched focus from the feather to the plush rug beneath her feet, the same one that bore her mother’s favorite pattern.

  No, she thought. I will not allow my family to suffer because of me.

  With great regret, Kiva tossed the skin out the window, along with the kiraeen feather.

  She then walked back to her bedding and sat down on it, crossing her legs. Meditation had never done anything for her in the past, but there wasn’t much else to do at the moment. Kiva closed her eyes, resting her hands on her knees, and tried to be at peace with what was to come.

  She was just beginning to find a hint of inner calm when a rustling came from the window. Kiva opened one eye to see the animal skin on the rug. She opened the other and saw the feather, once again sailing back and forth on its journey to the floor.

  Kiva frowned. Who do you think you are? she thought, annoyed at the brazen act.

  She stood, intending to throw them back out again, when a knock came at the door.

  “Who is it?” she asked after a moment, hiding the skin and feather beneath her bedding.

  Three more knocks came at the door.

  Kiva remembered the terrifying man climbing the stage and grabbing her hair, and immediately scanned the room for anything she might use as a weapon.

  “Kivanya Fariq, you open the door this instant!” the unmistakable, muffled voice of her mother came from the other side.

  Kiva rushed over and unlocked it, and her mother stepped in, closing the door behind.

  Ismaela Fariq looked her daughter over sternly, and Kiva stared at the floor, suddenly conscious of her red eyes and tear stained cheeks. She braced herself for the inevitable barrage that would issue from her mother’s mouth.

  Then, without another word, her mother did something she never would never have expected. Kivanya felt her mother’s arms wrap around her as if she were a small child again, hanging from her apron strings.

  Kiva stiffened, unsure how to respond to the unusual show of affection, but her mother only hugged her tighter. She was suddenly hit by the realization that she was not alone. Her mother, at least, had not abandoned her. She collapsed into her arms, hugging back just as fiercely. They finally released, and Kiva felt fresh tears welling in her eyes. She saw the same in her mother’s.

  “I’m so sorry mama,” she said. “I never meant to cause trouble for you and Papa.”

  Her mother pursed her lips together. “Come, let us sit.”

  They walked over to the floor pillows and seated themselves across from each other.

  “You must think me so foolish,” said Kiva.

  “At first, yes. I did,” her mother answered. “But while everyone else was watching those who were shocked and angry, I was busy observing those who were not…No woman has ever accomplished what you did today.”

  Kiva was surprised to find a sense of pride stirring within her.

  “The looks on the faces of the young girls in the crowd—those who would soon face their own proving—was not one of outrage, but wide-eyed wonder and hope. Before today, none of them had ever dreamed they could accomplish what you did. They saw themselves in you, Kivanya.”

  Kiva was unsure how to react. She’d never seen her mother like this before. It was as if something within her, something long forgotten, had awakened.

  “But our family’s reputation…Amir’s proving—”

  “We will be fine. The stonemelters are lucky to have your father and Amir, and they know it.”

  “And what about you?” Kiva asked, looking up into her mother’s eyes.

  “Pah!” she said, flicking her hand dismissively. “On the surface, the weavers share the men’s outrage, but within the circles, there is talk of change. I will play the part of a mother shamed, but the truth is, I am proud of you, Kivanya. What you did, and even more so Jado’s reaction to it, have drawn attention to what many Sahra’ women have been feeling for a long while.”

  “The men have been holding us back,” Kiva said.

  “No,” her mother said sternly. “Adversarial sentiments will lead only to resentment and strife.” She breathed a short laugh. “Funny, it would seem your father has rubbed off on me after all these years.” She returned her focus to Kiva and said, “We will not claim to be better, but we will claim the right to challenge. This is the path to change.”

  Kiva resisted the urge to pinch herself. Her mother, her traditional, strict, controlling mother, was speaking of revolution. She thought back to what her brother had said. “Mica believes I should claim that what I did was a mistake…a joke.”

  “Of course he does. He is a man,” her mother said with a half-smile. “He wants what he thinks is best for you. As you know, Lalla Netaniah is on the council of seven. I have spoken with her, and she believes the women of the council will support you in your challenge.”

  Kiva’s heart leapt in excitement, then once again sank. “But there are only three women on the council. They won’t be enough to offset the men.”

&nbs
p; “Which is why it is imperative that all Sahra’ women—wives, daughters, sisters—all stand united to demand equal representation on the council.”

  “You mean…”

  “A council of eight. Four men, four women.”

  Kiva’s jaw dropped. The council of seven had been enshrined in tradition since Madina Basin was first settled. It was as solid and unchanging as the towering buttes of the Miralaja.

  “You think…I should stand my ground?” she asked hesitantly.

  “I think that what you do is your decision, Kivanya. Even with everything that’s going on, there is still a chance this may result in exile. You now stand at the center of something far greater than yourself.”

  Kiva took a deep breath, attempting to come to terms with the responsibility implied in her mother’s words. “If you are successful…If we are successful,” Kiva corrected, “and there are four men and four women on the council, what will happen if there is a tie?”

  “A good question. Either there will have to be a compromise, or a deciding vote from another.”

  “Who?”

  “Some have suggested the eldest of the sect of mystics.”

  “But the eldest is also a man,” Kiva said, recalling the gnarled old figure who spoke at the proving ceremony commencement.

  Her mother nodded. “Yehiel is the eldest, but it will not always be so. His sister, Suriel is the next in line. She would succeed him in the position once he passes.”

  Kiva nodded. Yehiel deciding would not necessarily help her situation, but the change would be a massive victory for future generations of Sahra’ women. “A male tie-breaker will make the councilmen more agreeable,” she acknowledged.

  Her mother smiled with pride. “Precisely.”

  Kiva gazed at the window, up toward the sky, then turned back to face her mother. She had rejected the idea of fighting for her own selfish reasons, but this was no longer just about her.

  “Alright,” she said. “I will stand my ground,” she said firmly. “Even if it means exile.”

  Her mother’s smile faded, and was replaced with serious determination. She reached out and took Kiva’s hand. “I will do everything in my power to prevent that from happening. You have my support, and that of the weavers.”

  Kiva once again felt tears fighting to reach her eyes. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you, for reminding me that there are more important things in life than propriety and tradition.”

  Her mother reached into the bag slung over her shoulder and pulled out a folded black headscarf. “This is for you.”

  She handed it to Kiva, who took it gently. A red symbol had been embroidered onto its surface. Kiva traced it with her fingertip. It was a kiraeen, all four of its wings spread wide, surrounded by a circle.

  “I…thank you.” She was too moved to say more.

  “Before long, every woman in Madina Basin will be wearing that symbol.”

  “Mama…I don’t know what to say,” she looked into her mother’s turquoise eyes, and found a new light there.

  “You needn’t say a thing,” she answered.

  Kiva leapt into her arms. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “You have my love, child, and that of your father. You are not alone.”

  After a long moment, they released each other, and stood.

  “I will try to come back and give you an update,” her mother said. “But getting in here was not easy, and might not happen again before you stand before the council.”

  Kiva realized suddenly, that this could be the last time she saw her mother. “Can you not stay a while longer?” she asked.

  Her mother smiled fondly. “Would that I could, but there is work to be done, and only ten days to do it.”

  Kiva nodded, doing her best to mask her disappointment. “I understand.”

  Her mother smiled, placing a hand to her cheek. “Stay strong, Skyhunter.”

  With that, she turned and walked out of the room.

  Kiva immediately hurried over to the bedding. She lifted the covers, revealing the lizard skin and kiraeen feather. She held the feather up to the moonlight, watching as turquoise, green and blue colors danced across it. She looked again at the lizard skin in her hand.

  out and up

  She tucked it into her shirt, and the feather under her belt, before pulling herself up through the window. Above, the craggy face of the basin’s outer wall loomed. Kiva chose a path, and began to climb.

  6

  Jonah

  Kiva ascended, hand over hand, until she reached the broad, flat top of the basin walls. She cautiously pulled herself up onto it, and looked around. It was a clear night. The three quarter moon was shining bright enough to hide most of the stars. Far overhead, a thin, curving band of white stretched from one horizon to the other; though it, too, was dimmed by the moon’s splendor.

  The top surface of the towering stone walls was flatter here, when compared with the jagged, toothy crags of the kiraeen roost. Kiva walked forward onto the sandy surface, until she stood at the center of a large, circular clearing. She stopped and turned in a circle, observing the weather-worn, natural stone formations surrounding her. Even in the moonlight, she could discern the striated layers of red, brown, and white. Some were pocked with holes high above, and others held darkened caves.

  The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and Kiva got the sensation she was being watched.

  “Hello?” she called out, slowly turning.

  There was a scrabble of stone, and the whoosh of wind. Kiva spun, and a kiraeen landed, even before she had fully faced it. It lowered its head, which was wreathed in black feathers. Its wings were slightly drawn from its chest, and its tail was fanned out, weaving in hypnotic figure-eights. Kiva knew better than to watch the tail, but she was unarmed.

  “Zakai! Ainhasar!” a man’s voice came from behind her.

  The kiraeen lowered its tail and raised its head, barked a screech of annoyance, and leapt forward into the air. Kiva ducked to avoid being knocked over as it sailed past her and drifted up on the breeze.

  She turned to watch it go, and saw the owner of the mysterious voice approaching from behind a stone. Kiva’s eyes widened. The young man walking toward her wore the light leather windwalker vest over a black tunic. His dark brown hair, which was neither very short, nor very long, hung in disheveled locks across his forehead. As he grew closer, Kiva saw he was only slightly taller than she was. His eyes locked onto hers. They were mostly green, but like hers, were spiked with yellow.

  He stood before her, arms crossed, and raised an eyebrow. “Took you long enough.”

  Kiva’s shock at his rudeness lasted less than a second. “Who do you think you are? Throwing your trash into my window?” she demanded, pulling out the rolled lizard skin and shaking it at him.

  “You lost your feather earlier today, I figured you might want it back,” he said, a hint of a smile playing on his face.

  Her hand went to the feather at her waist. “Sidi Jado rejected my right to challenge.”

  “Oh I know,” he said. “I saw the whole thing.”

  “Then you should know that I no longer have need of it.”

  “That so?” he said, glancing at the feather, still tucked into her belt. “Then why not toss it aside?”

  Kiva narrowed her eyes. “Who are you? Why have you asked me here?” Her attention was drawn away briefly as the kiraeen landed atop a stone formation behind him.

  “I am Jonah Basara, and back there,”—he glanced back, pointing a thumb toward the kiraeen—“is Zakai.”

  “We met,” Kiva muttered.

  “Yeah…sorry about that. I had to see if it was really true.”

  “What?”

  “That the kiraeen are compelled to attack women on sight. It would seem they are!” he said, satisfied with
the test. “At least the male ones are.”

  “You said you saw the whole thing…you should already know they are aggressive toward me.”

  “True,” he shrugged. “but you were in their roost, stomping around, making a racket. Kiraeen are very territorial, you know…not to mention that female kiraeen showing up.”

  “I could have been kill—” Kiva furrowed her brow. “The what?”

  “The female kiraeen. I am sure you saw her—larger than the others, red feathers atop her head?”

  Kiva thought back to her windwalker challenge. The creature that landed in the cavern after her climb, it had red feathers on its head…as did the kiraeen that landed behind her before the windfaith trial.

  “Caused quite the stir, that one.” A brief look of concern came and went from his face like a passing cloud.

  “I don’t understand,” said Kiva. “I thought the females couldn’t be bonded.”

  “They can’t,” he confirmed. “Far too aggressive. I’ve never seen one come this close to the roost before. You know the last man who tried to bond a female kiraeen was eviscerated?” Jonah made a hook with his finger and dragged it across his belly.

  Kiva gave him a look of disgust. “Have some respect. He was a windwalker, like you.”

  Jonah shrugged. “It was a hundred years ago. I’m sure he’s over it.” He grinned.

  Kiva rolled her eyes, doing her best to ignore his undeniable charm.

  “I saw the female circling in the morning,” he continued, “and decided to follow her…make sure she didn’t kill any bonded kiraeen. That’s when I spotted you. Turns out she and I were both curious. She too took an interest in your windwalker challenge.”

  “So you saw the kiraeen hunting me, and did nothing?”

  “Oh I did plenty,” he assured. “I kept Zakai from joining in the frenzy when you stirred up the roost. Had I not been on his back, he’d have been on yours in seconds. Zakai is faster than any of his brothers.”

  Kiva didn’t answer, but she noted with respect how he spoke of his kiraeen with such pride.