A Whisper of Wings (5 page)

“No you don’t. There’s things to do together yet! A dream to follow, eh? You’re not leaving me. I won’t ever let you leave me!”

Daimïru’s chest heaved as the girl looked up in adoration at Zhukora. They sat amongst the soaking mess, unwilling to release each other.

“In time, in time. The pain can wait. Fetch all the equipment. Find the prey that floated off downstream. We still go home in triumph with our catch!”

Zhukora somehow lifted her friend into her arms and turned back towards the village. The hunters followed in Zhukora’s footsteps with her power shining in their eyes.

Far downstream from the village, away from the teeming thousands and their inevitable noise, Shadarii floundered waist deep in rich brown river muck. She waded through the river shallows tending to the plants, healing any that seemed somehow tired or sick. The self appointed task had kept her occupied for many hours. She squelched happily through the nice cool mud and planted lily shoots while two mating dragonflies cruised up to settle in her hair. Shadarii laughed her silent laugh and let them have their fun. The ïsha tickled to the pleasure of the little mating bugs.

Suddenly the girl’s antennae twitched. She stood up and scowled, searching thoughtfully across the river as her wings waved in the breeze.

Shadarii waded swiftly upstream, water foaming up around her fine strong legs, then rounded a corner in the river bank and stared in amazement at what she found.

The titanic catfish was more than four wingspans long¹. It lay belly up deep in the reeds, its huge mouth gulping air as its mind ripped at Shadarii with its pain. The girl thrashed clumsily to the fish’s side, runing hands across its bleeding wounds.

Shadarii planted her feet down in the mud and grabbed the creature by the fins, snarling in silence as she fought to turn the catfish over. Muscles bulged as she heaved against the terrifying weight. With an almighty splash the fish toppled over on its side and came to rest with its head down in the drink, gratefully sucking water through its gills.

A mighty presence shimmered in the ïsha; the girl ignored it as she drove herself to save the poor beast’s life. Shadarii cradled its repulsive head and took a mighty breath.

A wild torrent of ïsha punched down into the catfish and seared its wounds. Wind shook the reeds as Shadarii reached out for the river’s power, and the great fish gave a heave of surprise, jerking beneath the Kashra’s healing touch. Flesh smoothed and auras blazed until the effort of the spell burned Shadarii’s mind like fire. With a final flash of energy she tumbled back into the mud. Shadarii rolled across the ground and retched, her body crumpling up in an agony of abuse.

Dear Rain, it hurt! The girl’s aura screamed and bled. She soothed it, clenched it, held it tight, until slowly the pain began to ease. Shadarii peered out beneath her muddy locks and looked into a pair of yellow eyes.

The catfish hung beneath the water, its fins cruising slowly back and forth. The creature’s wounds had healed; it would go about its strange, silent life in peace once more.

Great glazed eyes stared up at her like bottomless wells, and the fish’s gigantic ïsha field swept up out of the river like a pair of mighty arms. Shadarii gave a weary smile, and the fish seemed to twitch its whiskers in reply. Slowly it faded back into the dark, sinking piece by piece into the cool and silent depths.

Shadarii rose unsteadily from the mud, her legs shaking with the strain of walking. The girl gave a bow towards the river and then tottered off towards a water hole, thinking only of the pleasure of a long hot bath.

Behind her, something huge and powerful spread ripples through the deeps. The ïsha glowed, the river sighed, and all grew peaceful once again.

***

“Revered ones, welcome to the shelter of our wings! Clan Swallow-Tail is enriched by your presence.”

Nochorku-Zha bowed low before the dusty priests, his wings creaking as they swept out to shade his eyes. The commoners ranked behind him pressed their faces to the dust, and then the Nobles and the Counselors following one by one, rank after rank rippling far back into the fields and trees. Finally two thousand Kashra spread their wings in homage.

Nochorku-Zha sat at the head of his mighty clan, his belts of office wound tight about his narrow waist. His daughter Zhukora knelt behind him, her presence stark and beautiful as a knife. She silently shored up the old man’s weakness, reaching out to help her father straighten from his painful bow.

The arrival of the tribal priests demanded high ceremony. The High priestess was a fat, serene old woman with a pelt of iron grey. Sharp, calculating eyes swam deep behind her smile, and the ïsha swirled around her with an awesome pulse of power. The priestly party numbered twenty individuals, males and females equally in portion. Unlike the other Kashra, they bore items made from butchered skin or bone². The skulls of birds and animals dangled from their belts, repositories for allied spirits bound within the living world.

These were the tribal sorcerers; they tracked down evil spirits of disease and hunted lurking vampire Ka. They stood aloof from structured clans, wandering the villages at need. Though the priestly dancing girls were long and luscious, the Swallow-Tail males fearfully hid their eyes. There was something chilling about the sense of power lurking behind their eyes.

In any case, the priesthood were sworn to celibacy. Sexual appraisal must remain purely academic.

The High Priestess looked out across the clan assembly, her gaze lingering on Zhukora before she turned to face Nochorku-Zha. She spread her plump old hands and beamed in welcome.

“Greetings to Nochorku-Zha! Greetings to our children of clan Swallow-Tail. Nochorku-Zha does his office great honour; we are pleased to see clan Swallow-Tail so prosperous and plentiful.”

“Though the game is scarce, our numbers grow ever greater.” Nochorku-Zha gave a rheumy smile. “It is good to see so many young ones filling up the woods with laughter.”

“The tribe grows, or do we old folks shrink? Some days it’s hard to tell.” The fat Priestess cocked her head, piercing Zhukora with her eyes. “And we take this to be your daughter?”

“My eldest, Zhukora-Ki. A most obedient girl.”

Zhukora wore a hunter’s loincloth, mocassins and leggings - a sharp contrast to the festival dress of all the other girls. The Priestess raised one brow, her eyes never leaving Zhukora’s face.

“Nochorku-Zha, we thank you for the welcome of your clan. With your blessing we should like to bathe and rest awhile. The journey was somewhat hard upon these poor old bones! Eighty years weigh heavy when the damp is in the air.”

Nochorku-Zha signed for Zhukora and muttered absently in his daughter’s pointed ear.

“Aaaaah what’s-her-name - the quiet one - she bathes enough to be a fish! Have her take the priests to a pool where they can bathe, and be quick about it!”

Zhukora curtly signed for Shadarii to rise, and the little dancer glumly did as she was told. Followed by the fat shape of the Priestess, Shadarii led the way towards her favourite bathing pool.

The priests bothered her; the ïsha swirled thick and heavy all around them, and Shadarii kept instinctively away. Moving far away from the village and up into a land of rocks and cliffside winds, Shadarii passed between a golden spray of golden wattle trees. The blossoms overhung a tumbling nest of rocks where water leaked slowly down the moss to sparkle in a dozen tiny pools, and warm rays of sun filled the air with mellow light. Seeing so much quiet magnificence, Zhukora glared at Shadarii in disapproval.

“How long have you been keeping this place to yourself?” The huntress seared her little sister with a glare. “I’ll deal with you later. Just go help the lower priests find their bathing places.”

Zhukora knelt beside a pool and plunged her hand into the water, ïsha crackling as the water swiftly began to steam. The High Priestess glanced up in surprise.

“Thank you Zhukora-Zho. You are a most energetic host.” She stirred the water with a pudgy toe and gazed thoughtfully towards Zhukora’s back; the water had turned scalding hot with nothing but one short, sharp power blast.

“Yes. Very energetic indeed…”

The other priests struggled in teams, dredging up the energy to heat the other pools. The weird dancing girls gaily doffed their clothes; men leapt and dove, women squealed. Shadarii peered around in dismay, hovered by the High Priestess and wringing her hands in consternation.

The High Priestess was not a pretty sight; she eased her fat old bulk into the pool, sighing gratefully at the caress of heat.

“Ooooh lovely! Zhukora dear, your talents are wasted as a hunter. This water is superb! Did you ever think about the benefits of entering the Healer’s calling?”

“No Reverence, I have not. There are too many important things for me to do.”

“I quite understand. We must follow where our hearts lead us.” The High Priestess opened up one eye, peering blearily up towards Shadarii. “Oh what is it child? Must you fidget so?”

Shadarii knelt beside the bathing pool, trying to snag the Priestess’ attention. She waved her hands, pointing urgently towards the stand of wattle trees, and the Priestess watched the girl in utter mystification.

Shadarii sighed in frustration and tried again. She made the sign for insult and tried to mime a little dance, but the Priestess cut her short.

“What’s that? Rude? No my dear. You aren’t being rude.”

Shadarii shook her head and pointed up towards a huge old tree where a Ka hovered in the roots, resentfully aware of the intrusion in the pools. Shadarii pantomimed the giving of a gift, ïsha sparkling from her hands as she tried to make her message clear. The Priestess finally seemed to understand.

“Oh that! Well if you insist. How very quaint.” She called imperiously up into the air. “Kanoohï, pay the Ka for granting us his home space for our bath.”

A male priest flicked a ball of energy before the Ka. The being grumbled, sucking in its payment with ill grace, and the priests went back to their baths without a second glance.

Shadarii knelt beside the tree and wrapped the Ka around her, pouring apology out into the ïsha. The spirit grudgingly forgave her, its ego stroked by Shadarii’s promises; she would tend the plants and heal their wounds, chasing off the grubs that bored deep within the tree.

Her task completed, Shadarii bowed before the High Priestess then pointed back towards the village, acting out her need to return. The old woman watched her closely.

“You may leave us child. As the chief’s daughter, it would please me if you danced for us tonight. I shall so instruct your dancing mistress; I’m sure it will be a performance worth remembering.”

Shadarii whirred away, leaving Zhukora trapped beside the pool. The fat old Priestess lounged back in the water, idly inspecting the back of her pudgy hand.

Sprits emerged from the rocks to slide across the cliff face like irridescent butterflies. In their wake, the ïsha sparkled, making trails that drifted slowly past the High Priestess’ eyes. The old woman kept her eyes upon Zhukora as she ran the strands of magic through her hands.

“Nochorku-Zha is dangerous. So devoted to his useless rules that he cares for nothing else. A blind old man who has not even thought to secure a future for his eldest daughter.”

The words bit home, and Zhukora whirled, only to be caught and held by the Priestess’ gaze.

“Tell me Zhukora, are the young folk happy? Do they laugh with joy to find that food is growing scarcer? Do the jiteng³ games take away the anger? Have you never thought that someone else might make a better clan leader - a better tribal leader?”

“You-you speak treason!”