by H. J. Bellus
Jonah unrolled her bedding and laid out the soft blankets and padding. Kiva shifted onto them using her sore, bruised limbs, and lay back.
“I’ve got to head home,” he said.
Kiva’s disappointment must have shown, because he quickly explained why.
“I would stay, but Jado is holding a sect gathering tonight. If I’m not there, he will notice.”
“Of course, I should get some sleep anyway.”
Jonah nodded and stood. “I’ve eastern patrol tomorrow, but I will try to stop by to see how you’re doing. Tomorrow night, we will continue your training. Familiarize yourself with the scripts, specifically kiraeen origins.”
“I will,” said Kiva.
Jonah hesitated, and Kiva looked up at him.
There was shame in his eyes, which was quickly replaced with resolve. “I will do better by you, Kivanya Fariq. I swear it. On my bond.” He turned and left the small cave, and Kiva watched as his dim form strode to the center of the clearing. He whistled, and Zakai landed beside him shortly after. Then, they were gone, and Kiva was once again alone.
She stifled a yawn, glancing at the nearby torch, still propped up between two stones. Several more lay nearby, unlit. She decided to leave it burning, closed her eyes, and attempted to sleep. After several failed attempts to get comfortable, she sighed and opened her eyes.
The tube of rolled up scripts was leaning against the cave wall nearby, and she idly reached for it. Squinting at the curving parchments in the dim torchlight, she leafed through until she found what she was looking for.
Kiraeen Origins
Klu albard, Ahn Ket Suun
The Sahra’ home world of Tanusa, has fallen. Ahn Ket Suun, the Ancient One, leads his people through the great hollow between worlds. Within his immense body are housed those species of Tanusa worthy of preservation, including the kiraeen.
The bond between Sahra’ and kiraeen began many centuries ago, before the exodus of our people. This Grand Rahil brought many changes, but the bonding between man and kiraeen was not one of them…
Kiva stifled another yawn. She’d already learned of the Grand Rahil—the exodus of the Sahra’ from their ancient home—in her schooling. She understood the importance of knowing the histories, but it was over a thousand years ago. She flipped through the scripts, looking for something more interesting.
The Bonding
There is no bond more sacred than that of a windwalker and his kiraeen. To join with a skychaser is to forever change the reference point from which one frames his life. Once established, the bond is permanent, and nothing short of death will release it.
Kiva continued reading, absorbing as much as she could, when one section in particular caught her eye.
Once bonded, kiraeen skychasers must be kept separate from their female counterparts. Recognizable by their larger stature and bright red plumage upon the brow, female kiraeen are a male’s greatest threat. Under normal circumstances, a female will keep her distance, and a bonded male will not seek her out. Should a female approach, she must be driven off without hesitation, lest the skyhunter destroy every last male kiraeen in the roost.
“Skyhunter,” Kiva whispered, and a shiver ran down her spine. It was the same name driven to her mind by the kiraeen of her windwalker challenge.
A skyhunter is a female kiraeen, she realized. No wonder Jado had been so shocked to hear Kiva name herself one. She smiled, remembering the disbelieving expression on his face. She continued reading, lighting another torch once the first had burnt down. Soon that one too burned low, and the lettering grew blurred before fading into the darkness of dreams.
11
Mehalia
“Kiva?”
Kivanya stretched beneath the covers of her bedding. Parchment rustled as it fell to the floor beside her. Must have fallen asleep reading, she thought.
“Kiva are you here?” Jonah’s voice called, and he appeared at the opening of her small cave.
Kiva was genuinely glad to see him.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, approaching and crouching down beside her.
Kiva rolled her shoulder. It was sore, but nowhere near as bad as it had been the night before. “Better,” she said, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and yawning. She turned to face him, and her eyes focused on his face.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Jonah pursed his lips. “I have news…”
Kiva sat up. “What is it? What’s going on?”
“The strike was a success. The council has agreed—women have won equal representation.”
“They did it? That’s wonderful!”
Jonah nodded. “Four men, and four women. The eldest mystic, Sidi Yehiel, will cast a final vote in the event of a tie.”
Kiva breathed a sigh of relief. Her chances for avoiding exile had just improved significantly.
Jonah however, did not seem to share in her relief.
“What is it?”
“There’s more,” he said. “Sidi Yehiel has fallen ill. The healers say he will not last a week.”
Kiva’s heart leapt. “If Yehiel dies before the trial, his sister Suriel will become the eldest mystic.”
Jonah only nodded, his expression serious.
“Don’t you understand? This is good news! Suriel is far more likely to vote in our favor.”
“There’s more,” he said flatly. “I overheard my uncle speaking with councilman Elam…”
“And?” Kiva asked impatiently.
“They are moving the trial forward, in order to ensure Sidi Yehiel’s vote.”
“Al’ahmaq!” she cursed, throwing a loose stone at the wall, then winced at the pain in her shoulder. “Can they do that?”
Jonah nodded.
“How far have they moved it? When will it be held?”
“Tonight,” he answered gravely.
Kiva’s face paled. We’re not ready. “What are we going to do?” she asked. “I can’t even climb back down to my room!”
Jonah took a deep breath. “From what I can see, we have but two options. I can have Zakai carry you down to the basin’s entrance, and you can take your chances with the council as it now stands…With the new balance of men and women, your chances for avoiding exile are good. Better than good, I’d say.”
“And what of becoming a windwalker?” she asked.
Jonah shook his head slowly. “Sidi Yehiel is old fashioned. He will not allow it.”
Kiva’s heart sank. She felt the burning of a fire, hot and defiant, kindle within her. “What is the other option?” she asked, leveling her gaze at him.
Jonah hesitated. “It’s dangerous…I swore I would do better by you, Kivanya. I…”
Kiva’s anger and frustration boiled up. She could feel the tirade forming on the tip of her tongue, but she forced it down. Jonah wasn’t the one trying to clip her wings. He only wanted to keep her alive and safe…but ultimately it was her decision to make, not his.
“Jonah,” she said, reaching for his hand. “It means a great deal to me that you care so much for my safety. But I need you to understand I am capable of making my own decisions. The responsibility, and the consequences are mine to bear, not yours.”
He looked into her eyes, and as her heart called out to him, Kiva understood that there were some decisions in her life that would forever remain beyond her ability to control. Kiva asked him again, “What is the second option?”
Jonah sighed. “You bond your own kiraeen, today. If the entire council, plus Yehiel see what is possible, there’s a good chance at least one of them will change their mind.”
Kiva nodded. No woman had ever bonded a kiraeen before. She’d looked specifically for evidence of such in the scrips the previous night, and found nothing. Another impossible task…not that she’d been deterred by those in the past. But she wa
s injured, and should something go wrong…
“What if they saw me flying on Zakai?”
Jonah shook his head. “I had considered that as well, but Jado would know, and he would tell the others that you were not bonded to him.”
Kiva wracked her mind for another solution, but short of hastening Yehiel’s death, couldn’t think of one.
Kiva took a deep breath. “I will attempt the bonding,” she said, getting painfully to her feet.
“There is a great deal you must know before—”
“You mean this?” she asked, picking up the script on bonding.
“Well…yes,” he answered.
“I read through it last night. I think I understand how it works.”
“And the consequences? The price?”
Kiva nodded.
“Then you know that the bonding process is an incredibly delicate one. It’s not just the forging of the bond itself that poses a risk, but how it is executed.”
“Right,” Kiva said. “Push too hard, and you risk breaking the kiraeen’s spirit.”
“Correct, and your own along with it. Allow the kiraeen’s raw, primal energy to dominate you—”
“And degenerate into a feral creature, untethered from rational thought and driven purely by instinct,” Kiva finished for him.
Jonah nodded. “Forging the bond is all about balance. It is a dance between dominance and submission. A search for middle ground between the two. I do not control Zakai any more than he controls me.”
“But he obeys your commands. You must have some control?”
Jonah shook his head. “No. He complies as a result of our shared purpose. If he chose to disobey my request, he would be well within his means to do so.”
“When executed properly, a bond is comprised of loyalty, not control. A kiraeen bonded by control will obey your commands, but one bonded by loyalty will know when to ignore them.”
Kiva furrowed her brow. Why would you want your kiraeen to disobey? “But the scripts said it was necessary to maintain control.”
“Think of the scripts as a guide, rather than a set of rules. Not everything in them must be followed to the letter.”
Kiva nodded.
“The balance struck at the time you solidify the bond will determine the permanent nature of your relationship. Would you spend a lifetime bonded with a loyal friend, or an obedient slave?”
“I think I understand,” she said. She was both thrilled and terrified. Today was the day she would meet her kiraeen, and if all went as planned, bond the deadly predator. “I am ready,” she said. “To the roost?”
“No. You remember what happened last time you were there. The way Zakai reacted to you on your first encounter…”
“Then how do you propose we do this? Do you know of another way?”
“Maybe…”
“Well?”
“The other night, we discussed the windwalker who attempted to bond a female kiraeen. Well, given the female we saw during your proving, I decided to dig deeper. What I found was…unexpected.”
“What was it?”
“Kiva, you would not be the first woman to attempt bonding a kiraeen.”
“What?” she asked, shocked. “Who was she? What happened to her?”
“The details were pretty thin,” he said. “It was long before Jado. Back then Sidi Gidon led the windwalker sect. He had a strong and willful daughter, Mehalia, and he allowed her to give challenge. She passed the trials, and excelled in her training. She even managed to bond a kiraeen, for a time, but something went wrong.”
Kiva frowned, leaning forward. “What happened?”
“Following a combat training exercise, the bond began to fail. The kiraeen became confused, and started lashing out at everything within reach. Two other windwalkers and a kiraeen were killed before it took Mehalia’s life and flew full speed into a stone wall, breaking its neck.”
Kiva was speechless.
“Apparently the bond was tenuous from the beginning.”
“Has anything like this ever happened before?”
“Not that I could find. In the rare case of a failed bonding, a windwalker is either broken, or driven to madness.”
Kiva took a deep breath, looking over Jonah’s shoulder to the cave opening. “Did the histories say why something like this could have happened?”
“They do.”
“What do they say?”
“After the incident, Sidi Gidon stepped down. He was blamed for the disaster, and accused of bringing shame to the windwalker sect.”
“That explains why Jado refuses to entertain the idea of a female windwalker,” Kiva realized aloud.
“The histories were written by those who had succeeded Gidon. They claimed the kiraeen refused to accept Mehalia because she was female.”
“I see,” Kiva said, unconvinced. “And what do you think?”
“I think they are right…at least in part.”
Kiva’s anger flared up, but instead of berating him, she held her tongue and waited for him to finish.
“I think the reason Mehalia failed was because she was female…and her kiraeen was male.”
Skyhunter. The word once again echoed in Kiva’s consciousness, and her anger dissolved. “You think I should bond a female kiraeen.”
“None have succeeded in doing so before, but all of those who attempted were men.”
Kiva’s mind cast back to her trials. The imposing kiraeen, larger than the others with red feathers atop her head. Kiva could almost feel the unbridled primal energy flowing off her in waves. What Jonah said made sense, and his idea felt somehow right. But there were still problems.
“Say you’re right, and I must bond a female for this to work. How would we even go about finding one?” she asked.
“I have been considering this idea for the past few days, and when not on patrols, I have tasked Zakai with seeking one out. Unlike the males, females roost alone. Zakai has found one such roost in the mesas to the southwest.”
Kiva sat for a long moment, considering.
“It won’t be easy…especially not in your state,” Jonah warned.
She knew all too well how right he was. The first flight, essential for sealing the bond, would be turbulent at best. Kiva considered resuming life as normal with her family in the basin. She tried to picture herself issuing a challenge to the weaver sect, finding a husband…but the illusion wouldn’t hold. There was no going back.
“It’s not too late. You can still face the trial as is. They will not exile you…especially if you admit fault—”
“No,” she said. “I have chosen my path. I will not abandon it now.”
Jonah looked at her. In his eyes she saw respect, worry, and she again wondered if there might be a hint of something more.
Kiva stood, and he rose as well.
“I will have Zakai take you to the female’s roost, after which he will return here to me. It will be too dangerous for him to remain. If there were more time, I’d have you wait for him to bring me to you…but the trial is in a matter of hours. Once you’ve bonded your kiraeen, you will need to go directly there. If you fail to arrive, you will be found guilty, regardless of votes.”
“Of course,” Kiva said. “I understand.”
They walked out of the cave into the clearing. Kiva’s joints ached, but her bruised limbs were nowhere near as painful as they had been the day before.
Jonah whistled twice, and Zakai sprung from his perch and glided down toward them. Kiva watched him descend, while Jonah checked the straps of her harness. “Not too tight?” he asked.
“No, that’s good thank you.”
Zakai landed beside them in a gust of wind. Jonah stood before Kiva, and she could tell he was questioning his decision to send her off.
“I will be fine
,” she insisted. She did her best to bury the anxiety twisting in her belly.
“I should come with you—”
“No. You said yourself, you wouldn’t get there in time,” she argued.
“But if you’re injured—”
“If I don’t return for the trial, then you may come for me…but if you risk yourself or Zakai, so help me I’ll—”
“Okay,” Jonah agreed, holding up his hands. “Alright, I’ll await you in the basin below.” He then placed his hands on her shoulders, and faced her calmly. “You can do this. It’s time to change what it means to be a windwalker.”
Kiva nodded, and Zakai lowered himself. She grasped the harness with her bandaged hand and winced, pulling herself up. Shifting her weight, she began to latch the thigh clips of her harness; then decided not to. If she was going to ride her own kiraeen with no harness, she would have to get used to it.
“Oh,” Jonah exclaimed, “I almost forgot.” He reached into his satchel and pulled out a bundle of brown leather straps. “It’s a bonding harness. You’ll need it for your first flight.”
“Thank you,” she said, taking the harness. With no buckles or clips, it was far simpler than the one on Zakai. She bundled it into a small bag over her shoulder. “For everything.”
This is it, Kiva thought. She would bond her kiraeen, or die trying.
She took one last look at Jonah, then turned her gaze toward the clear blue sky.
“Zakai, yatir!” she shouted, and he sprung forward through the air, climbing skyward.
12
The Bonding
Yellow rays of light shone through the thin, scattered cloud cover. Zakai hit a thermal updraft—the result of a dry patch of ground baked all day under the sun—and was pushed upward. They quickly climbed, and were soon gliding across the desert, high above the tops of the jagged, rocky buttes.
Once they’d reached cruising altitude, Kiva sat up straight and closed her eyes, breathing deeply. The black headscarf her mother had given her trailed behind, tucked into her tunic, and the dagger from her father rested at her waist. The air cooled the sweat on her brow, and she pictured the female kiraeen—the skyhunter—in her mind. She again opened her eyes, reached back, and ran her hand along the leading edge of Zakai’s great wing.
