by Kyrja
Closing his eyes, Ozahm allowed his body to begin falling forward, towards the ground. Here, at the border of Jikangai, he would be able to leave the inner circle once his dead body touched the barrier. Being dead was always an extremely interesting – and intense – sensation. While he wouldn’t say he looked forward to it, the fact that this was Sov’s world made the experience all that more intense because there was always the distinct possibility he would actually stay dead. The brief moment during the blinking of an eye could last an eternity if his essence failed to reconnect with his body before it was fully re-formed on the other side of the boundary. Almost, he hesitated, but didn’t. He felt his body dissolving as his consciousness escaped the physical shell which housed it. And then he knew nothing.
* * * * * * * *
Denit was doing her best to just sit still and not be irritated. It wasn’t working very well, of course, because she was irritated. Sitting still, doing nothing was not her forte. Taking action, getting things done, finding out answers to her questions – those were the things she wanted to do. Now. Right now. She was a god; there was no good reason to be sitting – hiding! – in a cave, waiting for something to happen. It didn’t matter what might be out there, waiting to attack her. She had proven that she could hold her own, even in this strange … place. But Giya had insisted, saying that she wouldn’t get very far if she had to spend all her time and energy fighting off beasts of one kind or another. Denit had rolled her eyes at that. But Giya rarely did anything without good reason. She knew that. She respected that. But she was still … irritated!
If she was honest with herself, she wasn’t so very irritated at having nothing to do, nor even because she was trapped in a place that didn’t make much sense. She was concerned at the lack of information Giya seemed to have about their situation. She was certain her mother knew more than she was telling her, and that bothered her more than she cared to admit. She understood well enough that Lumas was an immensely powerful being who had created this … Jikangai … place, and that she probably wasn’t very forthcoming about how it had been created, nor even why. But it just seemed to her that Giya knew more than she was telling. As if, somehow, she was afraid that this was all her fault, and didn’t want anyone to know. Or maybe she was protecting someone else. For all Denit knew, Giya still had some kind of loyalty to Lumas and didn’t want to blame her. It was all very confusing and none of this was helping them to get out of this mess. At the very least, they should be tracking down Ozahm, to make him stop his efforts. Maybe Giya was afraid of him for some reason?
She felt herself suddenly cocking her head at the sound of something she hadn’t even realized she’d heard. Frowning, she stilled herself to wait for the … sound? movement? sensation? again. Scratching. A rodent of some sort? Maybe a bat? Or a bird? That sounded like wings moving. Not a bird in flight, but one on the … ground? Denit’s frown deepened. Was it the hawk from earlier?
“Youni,” Giya called quietly from behind her. “We know you’re here. Come out where we can see you.”
Denit knew she shouldn’t have been surprised, but she was just the same. Sina had told her the hawk would turn into an owl once night fell, and here was evidence of the girl’s claim right in front of her own eyes. Both Sina and Giya had told her Youni had spoken to them. She wondered if the owl would speak to her too.
She watched with fascination as the owl opened its mouth and felt a moment of disappointment when it seemed to make noises, but certainly nothing like any language she’d heard. In fact, if she’d heard an owl making that kind of noise under any other circumstances, she would guess it was hacking up its last meal. Shaking her head, she looked over her shoulder at Giya with a question on her face, asking if she knew what the bird was doing. But Giya’s attention remained riveted on the owl. In that moment, she heard a song. A few notes of a melody that most certainly could not have come from the owl. Quickly turning her head to look back at the creature, standing there on the floor, no more than three of her own body-lengths away from her, the owl’s beak was open and the music was, indeed, coming from its mouth.
Stunned, Denit tried to turn back to Giya to seek an explanation, but was unable to make neither her head nor her body move. Knowing her automatic reaction was anger, which all too quickly most-often turned to violence and destruction, she closed her eyes, willing herself to remain calm. This one time, let me be calm, she told herself. Trying to breathe deeply, and failing miserably, she opened her eyes again, only to find herself facing a woman. The song was still coming from the woman; she was visibly breathing. Her mouth was moving. Her eyes were a bright gold and fixed on Denit, but what she might be trying to tell her with the stare she was giving her was lost on her.
Calm. Remain calm.
The woman’s skin was darker than her own. She had dark braids piled on top of her head, spilling over her shoulders. She held her hands balled together in front of her chest, and her only clothing was a sand-colored, loose-fitting shift. Her feet were bare, and the only part of her which gave away her age. If not for her scarred and battered feet, Denit may have guessed her to be somewhere between thirty and forty. The skin of her feet was wrinkled, dirty, and old. Her voice, though, was … amazing. Undoubtedly meant to calm her.
But she wasn’t singing any more. Her mouth was moving, and Denit could still hear the song, but the woman was obviously speaking. Frowning, she tried to concentrate. Maybe the song was too loud or at a strange pitch, so she wasn’t able to hear the woman’s voice? Maybe she wasn’t able to speak, but was using her mouth to form words in the hope that Denit would understand her. No – she wasn’t exaggerating her lips or using her hands to explain her words. The woman expected her to be able to understand. Looking right at the woman, she shook her head, while putting her hands loosely over her ears.
“I can’t hear you,” she tried to say, only to discover she couldn’t hear herself either. She could feel her mouth and jaw moving and knew she was speaking, but she couldn’t hear her own voice. She tried several more times, while a sense of panic started to rise up inside of her. This is stupid, she thought to herself, relieved she could at least still hear her own voice inside her head. She looked back at the woman who was standing there, shaking her own head with a frown on her face. It seemed to Denit the woman came to some kind of decision, because she took a deep breath, then lowered her chin. Opening her mouth again, she sang a single note which seemed to shatter the rest of the song, making a sound like a glass vessel of some sort being smashed.
“You should be able to hear me now,” the woman told her, although she didn’t look happy when she said it.
“Yes!” Denit nodded her head, taking a deep breath of relief.
“I am sorry,” the woman frowned, shaking her head. Denit noticed she was looking at the ground instead of at her and had a feeling she wasn’t going to like whatever the woman was sorry about.
“Tell me,” Denit sighed.
“I am a Singer,” she started, then stopped. “Words,” she paused again, “are not an easy thing for me. Not now. After so long.” She shook her head, clearly frustrated.
“Let’s start with something easy,” Denit suggested. “My name is Denit.”
“Yes,” the woman nodded easily. “You are the goddess of the sun now that Lumas has taken Sov away. Sov and Lumas made Giya, who made you.”
“That’s right,” Denit agreed, feeling more uncomfortable than she would have thought she would have about someone saying Giya had made her, instead of having been born like everyone else, despite everything the woman said being factual.
“But when Giya made you, she used … “ the woman paused again, searching for the words to use.
“Giya called it “Void Magic,”” Denit told her.
“Yes! That will do. Void Magic. From the border Sov used to hide the … to hide … well, the people he used to stay alive. But Lumas helped make that border,” she told Denit.
“I am not surprised to hear it,” Denit
replied, beginning to wonder where all of this was leading. It was a very strange conversation to be having in order for the woman to tell her what she was sorry about.
“You don’t understand,” the woman sighed, shaking her head. “These words! It is so hard to explain! Time! Lumas took time away from the … the … border or wall she made to hide the people!”
“But why does that matter?” Denit asked, almost wishing she didn’t have to find out. She knew something terrible was coming and wasn’t really sure she wanted to hear it.
“Because Jikangai is outside the time of your world. Our world. The Song sent me to help Giya, to help her to live outside of her time. Until others could come. Because Singers are everywhere, I can move through different places and different times. We knew you would come, but we had hoped you would not. You cannot move through time. Not yet. The Song tells us that one day you will, but we don’t understand when.”
“I really wish I could understand what you’re saying better, but all I think I understand is that I must be some place or some time that is different than our world?” Denit was putting pieces together, but was still missing too much to understand why the woman had said she was sorry. That was the key. Why was she sorry? What had happened? What had she done?
“You are no longer in Jikangai. You cannot move because you are … stuck, frozen, unmoving between times. There is a name for it, but I don’t remember this word.”
“I’m not in Jikangai? But I thought the only way to leave was to die. Does that mean I’m dead?”
“No,” the woman shook her head without hesitation. “But you cannot return to your own time and now you cannot return to Jikangai. Only if the others free Giya. Then you can go back to your own time. To your own place. To our world. Until that happens, you must remain here.”
“But you brought me here! I know you did,” Denit exploded. “Why can’t you take me back? And why can’t I move? You do know I am a god, don’t you?”
“Yes!” the woman raised her voice for the first time. “That is why you cannot move. If you were a human, you wouldn’t be made of … the Void Magic. That is why the girl who kills everything in Jikangai – the girl. Her name is Sina. That is why she can hear me when I talk and Giya can too. But you cannot because you have this magic without time inside of you that Giya used to make you. The magic Lumas made to hide Sov’s people. Can you understand?”
“I can understand it all right,” Denit sighed. “I just can’t stand it, is all. Do you understand that?”
“Yes,” the woman nodded, “and you must not try to free yourself from this place without me. It is, maybe, better you are here now, before the others come.”
“Why is it better to be here?” Denit asked.
“Because of the magic you are made of. If the others free Giya, and you are in Jikangai, you will be written out of the Song.”
“I would die?” Denit wanted to know.
“No. More than that, you would never have lived. Do you see why you must not try to leave here?”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth? How do I know Ozahm didn’t send you to get me out of Jikangai so I couldn’t help Giya or Sina?”
“You are not a Singer,” the woman replied. “You cannot see time. You cannot know if I am truthful or not.”
“But then …? How can I …?” Denit sputtered, deciding she didn’t have the right questions to ask. She took a deep breath, to try again. “What is your name?”
“The girl has already told you. My name is Youni.”
“Why are you … I don’t know … disguised as a rooster, a hawk, and an owl? Why not show your true form?”
Denit was surprised when Youni smiled at her. “My true form is not what you see before you. I was once this … woman, yes. That is true. But I have always been a Singer, and only surrendered to the Song after most of my human life was done. I don’t remember my name from before, but the name “Youni” vibrated with who I know I am, so I chose it.”
“But why did you choose to be seen in the form of birds instead of as a human, like you are now?” Denit pressed.
“I am a Singer. This human form is … from before. It is … stiff,” she explained. Then added, “People trust animals more than they trust other people.”
“So what happens now? I just sit here, doing nothing, until the others come and free Giya? You must understand that I have a lot of questions.”
“There are too many answers,” Youni told her. “I am outside of the Song, so I cannot see.” She paused, then looked at Denit, as if to emphasize what she was about to say. “The Song does not decide what may or may not happen, Denit. Not any more than a river chooses where it will flow.”
“If you cannot make sure things happen, then why are you even here?” Denit was angry now, and afraid.
“You did not listen. I told you the Song does not decide. I did not tell you that Singers do not.”
* * * * * * * *
The tree Sina was sitting in had smooth bark, and the angle of one of the trunks was just right, so she could sit comfortably where the three trunks met. Even better, there was a spill of rocks just the right size right next to the tree so she could rest one foot there. If she had to guess, she would say the tree had split the rocks when it forced itself out of the ground. Being able to just sit here, feeling the tree supporting her, she felt a wave of sadness wash through her, knowing Ozahm would soon make her destroy it. She was truly tired of destroying everything. She had felt powerful the first few times she had consumed the lifeforce from everything. It had been exhilarating and amazing. But now … it only made her feel sad.
She just wanted to go home. Back to her own life. Her own bed. Her own … everything. But it was all gone. Every bit of it. And if Denit was right, even her own mother hadn’t really been her mother. How did anyone expect her to feel about all that? How would anyone feel if they had those things happen to them? It used to make her mad. Furious. And now … she was just tired. And sad. She watched as Deiserin came out of the water, one slow foot after the other, and wondered how she felt, after all these long years. Did she still miss her old life? Did she even remember it?
The moonlight was glistening against her shell as the water sloughed off of her. To Sina’s surprise, Deiserin looked back over her shoulder, past the bulk of her shell, up into the sky. Even as her legs carried her forward, she watched the moon as it moved west. It would take very little time for daylight to begin its reach across the land from the east, but for this moment in time, Deiserin had the moon to herself. Sina felt like an intruder, and wished she didn’t have to be right here, right now. To watch the once powerful leader of an amazing nation mourn the loss of the moon shining against the sea. Sina had a strong urge to hug the enormous tortoise and tell her that it was going to be all right, even though she knew it never would be.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, as Deiserin turned her head back around and kept moving forward, away from the sea and the reflection of the moon she clearly loved.
Chapter Twenty-Four – Traveling within the Song
The Song had changed. Yakuza had known this. The fact that he’d been standing on his own two, very human, feet on the sand was proof enough of that. But somehow he’d forgotten this very important fact in the short time he’d been speaking with his grandfather and the others. The others the Song had sent him to bring to the place outside of time. The time outside of place. He’d almost screamed when he had re-entered the melody. If not for the fact he had been given the task of bringing these people to Jikangai, he was certain he would have been lost. He would have pulled himself out of the Song – the noise that was now the Song. The wetness on his face reminded him how human he was again. The Song was gone. The one he’d helped to make. To perpetuate and connect with all the other Singers. Everywhere. Everywhen. He had never felt such peace, such purpose, such connection. And now it was gone. The Song had changed without him.
Worse, the note his grandfather was singing was bringing
back memories of his life before he had surrendered to the Song. Instead of blending with the voice of the other Singers, helping to combine the harmony that was the past, the present, and the future into a unified vibration throughout all time, space, and place, his grandfather’s note reminded him of sunshine and trees. Of the feel of grass beneath his feet and the smells of food. The sound of rain and the taste of the wind. He hadn’t thought of these things – hadn’t remembered them – in a very long time. Perhaps it hadn’t been as long as he’d thought it had been. Time was such a strange concept here, above the mantle. The way it moved along from one point to another, instead of in concert with all times everywhere. And yet … the smell of his grandmother’s bread was calling him back to the time when he was still nothing more than a boy. A human boy. One who loved to sing and who could hear the Song vibrating in his bones.
