Moon Dancer

by Kathryne Kennedy

  Tarov glanced up at the enormous trunks looming from the side of the channel. Unlike the tree towns, they lacked the rope bridges connecting one to another, the stairs or ladders that allowed for easy climbing. “Why would we want to go into the wilds? There are treecats in there!”

  He grinned, transforming his face into beauty. “There’s not a single pride around these parts.“

  When Tarov opened her mouth to protest about all the other dangerous elements within the jungle, he held up a hand to forestall her.

  “Scared of a little adventure, Moon Dancer?”

  She grinned. He knew the challenge would sway her. Tarov bit into the bitter root and swallowed. “Of course not.”

  He held out his hand and she took it, feeling a jolt race up her arm straight to her heart. He led her to one of the small canal boats latched to the main barge, set them adrift, and quickly rowed across the channel to the exposed root of a sea tree. Tarov took a breath, the power of the root flowing through her body, and focused it on her muscles as they clambered out of the craft, Dolph tying it to a sturdy drevil bush growing from the tree’s root. Despite the plant’s delicate fluffy growths, the bush had sturdy branches.

  Above them, white vine flowers suddenly opened to the night, releasing a fresh cloud of perfume and dropping petals around them like some sort of gentle rain. Dolph grasped one of the hanging vines and gave it an experimental tug. More petals rained on his head, looking like some sort of crown.

  He began to climb, shaking off the flowers, his lean body almost flowing up the tree. Tarov found a vine parallel to his and matched his pace, the zabba making it feel as easy as dancing. The thick canopy of the leaves blocked any light from the moons, so she could scarcely see her hands above her. Using a bit of the power, she opened her Sight to the darkness, something she rarely did, and marveled at how different the world looked, as if she could See within the very tree itself. She pulled the power back, afraid to get trapped within the marvel of it.

  They reached a branch road, this one not nearly as wide as those within the towns, but once they crawled over the edge to the top of it, they could still walk easily side-by-side without fear of falling.

  Dolph clasped Tarov’s hand again, and she squeezed his in return. They walked in silence for a time, listening to the wind through the leaves, so much louder up in the branches, and the growls and croaks and barks of all the animals living within the canopy. They skirted a nest of phosphorescent worms, their combined light making Tarov narrow her eyes against the brilliance of it. Dolph pulled a small translucent globe from the pouch at his belt, snatched up one of the creatures, and stuffed it inside.

  Tarov followed him up over a branch crossing the one they had just traveled, and once again when he took another limb to the right. She felt grateful for the glowing light Dolph held in front of them now, easing the power from her Sight and focusing it on her Strength as they began climbing steadily upward. They carefully avoided some dedo vines, walked swiftly over a carpet of pinch-moss, and clasped hands when they heard the scream of a treecat.

  “It’s miles away,” Dolph reassured her.

  “I haven’t been up in the canopy for years,” replied Tarov, responding with a shrug. “It’s exhilarating to be so high, but by-the-moons, are we almost there yet?”

  He smiled. “Surprises are worth waiting for--I think it’s this way.”

  He thinks? wondered Tarov, her thoughts wild with the exhilaration of this adventure. Where on Sea Forest could he possibly be taking her? If she didn’t love him so much, she would turn around right now…love. Did she just admit she loved Dolph? Had she finally allowed herself to embrace her feelings for him?

  Tarov huffed. Well, she told herself impatiently, why else would she be following him through the jungle night?

  “There it is,” Dolph blurted, relief evident in his voice. “I could See it from the ground, but the branches up here are a bit more difficult to navigate than I thought, even with the power helping.”

  “There’s what?” replied Tarov, looking around the dark tree road.

  Dolph pointed over to a parallel branch. Tarov could make out a tangle of unfamiliar vines and a large growth of something in the middle of them. Dolph grabbed a hanging vine, grasped Tarov around the middle, and swung them both across the gap before she even had a chance to yelp.

  He strode over to the vines and held up the light globe, revealing an enormous red flower with silky petals closed tightly around each other. The flower seemed to absorb the scant light of the globe and began to glow on its own, lighting up the night. Tarov reached out in delight, stroking the bottom of the flower, where smaller petals stuck out like feathered wings, but felt like the silk of her dancing scarves.

  “It’s beautiful,” she breathed.

  Dolph nodded. “It’s a xynth flower, and it blooms only once every thousand moons. The pollen inside is an aphrodisiac, and the petals will only open to those who are soul mates.”

  Tarov turned and looked into his glowing eyes. “So that’s why you brought me here? To prove we belong together?”

  “I know we do,” he replied. “But since you weren’t sure, I thought--well, it seems kind of foolish now. But I thought it would help allay some of your fears.”

  Tarov felt her eyes burn. “It’s not foolish. It’s kind. And romantic. And the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

  Dolph grinned with relief. “Shall we try?”

  “We don’t need to,” replied Tarov. “I realized that if I would follow you through this jungle without question, I must already be in love with you.”

  Dolph enfolded her in his arms and kissed her breath away. While Tarov tried to recover from the kiss, he laid his hand on the petals and parted them easily. “After you.”

  Tarov hesitated for just a moment. What if the legend was true, and it rejected them?

  But what if it welcomed them inside?

  She had to put aside her fear and doubt right now, or it might always be lurking in the back of her mind.

  Tarov followed her heart and carefully parted the petals, which opened as if they’d been waiting for her. She crawled inside, felt Dolph follow her, and then watched in wonder as the petals slowly closed behind them.

  The inside of the flower felt like a big cushion, but it was covered with some sort of golden glowing dust, which had puffed up when they entered and soon covered their arms, legs, and faces. Tarov blinked, looked at a glowing Dolph. The stamens at the side of the petals stirred lazily, stroking Dolph’s arms and hair. His eyes closed and he groaned.

  And then Tarov felt those feather-like fingers caressing her as well, and a feeling of pure desire shot through her, unlike anything she’d ever felt before.

  And then Dolph removed his clothing, powder replacing it, until she could make out the hard planes and curves of his entire body. Lean and ridged, muscles toned by years of dancing. Tarov shivered and reached out to touch him. The golden pollen drifted in the air, like thousands of tiny stars, and stuck to her palms when she touched him, making his skin feel so soft, so smooth.

  “Tarov,” he murmured, reaching behind her neck and meeting her lips. They tingled, and she opened her mouth, his tongue feeling like liquid fire. His hands moved, gently untying her tunic, sliding off her trousers, and golden powder crept into every crevice of her body, making it glow as brightly as Dolph’s. She’d never seen or felt anything like it before.

  “Dolph,” she managed, her breath mingling with his.

  And he curled his arm around her for support as one hand caressed her breasts, making her back arch involuntarily. Her legs spread as his deft fingers slowly made their way down her body to touch her where she yearned for it the most. He stroked once, twice, and Tarov exploded, twitching beneath his hand, a low moan escaping from the back of her throat.

  He gently laid her back on the cushioned stigma of the flower, and Tarov looked up to see the night revealed in the small opening at the top of the closed petals. Glowin
g dust competed with the night’s stars, and she smiled as Dolph lay his body over hers, a feeling of rightness in her heart as he entered her. His face cut off the sight of the stars and she realized how precious his smile had become to her.

  Then he moved, and heat spread through her. She felt his muscles flex and bunch, his breath at her cheek, and curled her arms around his back, down to his bottom, feeling the curves with delight. Tarov pulled him against her so he entered her more fully.

  “I love you,” he breathed, glowing sparkles dancing in the air from his words. And then he arched his neck back as he plunged inside her again and again. Tarov felt another feeling deep inside her womb, building with his rhythm, matching it, becoming one with his pleasure.

  The lights now lay behind Tarov’s eyes as she closed them in bliss. “I love you, too.”

  * * *

  Dolph asked Tarov to be his lifemate the next day, and she said yes amid the clapping and congratulations of the crew and dancers. They would have the ceremony when they reached the next tree town, when it could be officiated by a representative of the crown.

  Everyone seemed to be happy for their master and Tarov, except Henel, of course, and the few dancers who still associated with her, none of them deigning to clap or celebrate with the rest.

  But Tarov barely noticed, her heart full to bursting whenever she looked at Dolph. She felt as if she floated in a dream, and danced with a grace that left any who watched gaping with awe.

  Even Dolph.

  Tarov couldn’t wait for the ceremony, when she could officially join Dolph in his bed and life. Although they snuck away to be alone--and Tarov didn’t need a xynth flower to find surety and bliss in their lovemaking--she couldn’t wait to wake up with him every morning.

  In the meantime, she crawled into her own bed in the small partitioned room on the dancers’ boat. She closed her eyes, a smile on her face, for tomorrow they’d reach the town of Bluefin, and she would never have to sleep alone again. She had almost drifted off when she heard a soft tapping on her door. She smiled, hoping it might be Dolph, breaking his rule about coming to her room. He’d made it an unspoken taboo among all the dancers to avoid company when in their rooms, to prevent any distractions when they should be focusing on their craft…but perhaps…

  She opened the door, and to her dismay saw Henel’s smiling face, two flasks of moss wine clenched in each delicate fist. “Tomorrow’s my first official dance,” the other woman said, insinuating herself into the cabin. “I thought we’d celebrate.”

  Tarov fought a sudden impulse to tear out her hair. Or some golden ones. She thought Henel had finally realized Tarov didn’t want anything to do with her. “I don’t think so,” she began.

  “Oh, but I do,” interrupted Henel, plopping onto the floor and uncorking the skins, holding one out to Tarov. “Or would you prefer it if I told the rest of the dancers you’re so jealous of me you wouldn’t even share a drink of wine?”

  Tarov stared hard at the smaller woman. She didn’t think anyone on this boat thought Tarov was jealous of Henel any longer. Not when Dolph curtly turned aside any attempts from Henel to flirt with him. And Tarov knew without vanity that her love for Dolph had transformed her dance to a level fit for the crown. Tarov would perform tomorrow, and from there the flotilla would wind their way through the channels back to the Palace Tree. Dolph’s troupe had been invited to perform at a royal wedding, and he felt over the moons at the honor. He had chosen Tarov to be the lead dancer since he felt her reputation played a major part in acquiring the invitation in the first place. Tarov didn’t know if he exaggerated, but she felt grateful that Dolph would give her the chance to finally make her dreams come true.

  Tarov shook her head. Henel wanted something; she could feel it. So wouldn’t it be better to find out what it was? Tarov felt confident the woman no longer had the power to take anything away from her ever again. With a shrug, she perched in the middle of her hammock and cautiously sipped from the flask. “Excellent wine,” she commented.

  Henel smirked. “Braq’s own special blend.”

  Tarov hesitated, then sipped slowly, letting the bittersweet taste remind her of memories she thought long forgotten. And realized they no longer had the power to hurt her. She drank more, and longer, than she intended, thinking of Dolph and how he’d healed her heart.

  And said a final goodbye to the memory of Braq, who had not loved her enough.

  “Tell me, Tar,” Henel asked after she took a long swig from the other flask. “Is it true what they say of a moon dancer’s ‘ka?”

  Tarov shrugged again, and oddly enough, the walls spun for just a moment. She set down her flask of wine. “What do they say?”

  “That with them the dance transforms you into another being, connecting you with the leviathan whose bones they once belonged to.” Henel’s eyes glowed with something akin to obsession. “That fame and happiness is yours with the thirteenth-level.”

  Tarov nodded and this time the entire barge lurched. “Did you also learn no one else can use another dancer’s ‘ka? That at thirteenth-level the connection between dancer and instrument is so strong, if another wields it, it could well kill them?”

  “Oh, pshaw.” Henel waved her hand and Tarov saw ghosts of her fingers linger in the air. “It’s only a myth, that connection thing. I prove it every time I dance.”

  “Don’t be a fool…” Tarov shook her head and collapsed sideways into the hammock, her eyes wide in sudden realization. “What’d you put in the wine, Henel?”

  The other woman laughed. “Don’t worry--I wouldn’t murder my best friend. But I’m sorry to say you’ll probably sleep through your performance tomorrow.”

  Golden hair floated in and out of Tarov’s vision while Henel bound Tarov’s hands to the hammock’s support, her feet to the wooden bar which spread the net open. She felt the rope tighten around her ankles but couldn’t even move her head, much less kick her legs.

  “I’ve a feeling,” Henel grunted, yanking the rope even tighter, “you didn’t know the master had given me my walking papers. Told me I don’t have what it takes to be a true dancer. Whatever that means.”

  Tarov felt blankets cover her, hiding the bindings at her feet and hands. Her vision gradually faded to black, although she could still hear the girl’s mocking voice.

  “But I’ll show them. Tomorrow I’ll be replacing you as the star performer, Tarov Jin’nidea. Which is an obvious outcome, don’t you think?” Her voice began to fade away as she reached the door. “I mean after all--just look at lovely me, and ugly you!

  I deserve this, not you. You’ve always been lucky, but tomorrow I can change all that. When I finally get my chance, who do you think would attract the larger crowd?” The door shut quietly.

  Tarov frowned in confusion. “But the bones judge the dancer from the inside,” she mumbled, before a drugged sleep overtook her.

  * * *

  A hush fell over the crowd as the dancer moved onto the stage, a ‘ka in each hand, the razor-sharp edges of the bone instruments glittering with deadly malice. The veils covering her face added to the woman’s mystery and aura. Gloved hands shimmered with the fine scales of the rainbow fish, her forehead glowed with strings of blue pearls, her arms and legs flashed from the bands of woven, diamond shark skin encircling them.

  Only Tarov Jin’nidea noted the sudden trembling in the proud stance the dancer affected. She could just manage to see the stage from her tiny window. She worked at the ropes that tied her hands, making her wrists burn. She had woken but moments ago, found the moons illuminating the night, realized she’d slept the night and day away. She knew Dolph was busy with all the tasks of the performance, but still she hoped he would come looking for her. Even with the veils, surely he would realize Henel had taken the stage, not Tarov. But he might not even be watching, busy reassuring the usual nerves of the dancers backstage. Lack of confidence could be deadly.

  The pain at her wrists and ankles flared from her struggles,
and Tarov finally slumped back against her pillow. She looked out the window in frustration, wishing for a bit of zabbaroot, which might give her the strength to escape.

  Dolph had told her he’d spread the word of a thirteenth-level dancer who managed to master the bones fit for an audience for the king, and a larger crowd than usual gathered outside in hopes of catching the first glimpse of the new performance. Tarov felt a whisper of pride at the crowded wharf where the dancers’ flotilla had docked, at the people filling the limbs of the huge sea trees, all of them waiting patiently, just to watch Tarov’s performance.

  But the audience wouldn’t be watching her, but Henel Madera, and until Henel finished the dance, only the two of them would know it.

  The thought made Tarov’s stomach clench and her lips clamp shut. She’d endured betrayal after betrayal, and something snapped inside of her. She should scream for help, retrieve her stolen ‘ka, and expose Henel for the fraud she was.

  But it was already too late, for Henel started to spin the ropes, a hesitant sound issuing from the air streaming through the holes in the bones.

  The dancer finally moved the ‘ka in a simple pattern. She held the instruments carefully away from her body, slowly twisted and spun them until the beginnings of a true melody flowed through the holes of the bones. Not exactly what the crowd expected of the best moon dancer in the Forest, and Henel must have sensed the restlessness of her audience. She indignantly pulled the ‘ka closer to her body to execute the Pattern of the Octopus.

  Tarov nodded. A good place to begin, and a dance Henel always excelled in.

  As the dancer’s confidence grew, she executed a more complex pattern, one Tarov had devised, twirling the ropes beneath her feet, skipping over them so quickly the bones at the end of the ropes were but a blur. Then the difficult part; keeping the movement while spinning the ropes sideways and up the body. The bones usually sang an eerie song with this move. But shrill notes emerged, as if a narwhal had been speared.