A Whisper of Wings (19 page)

***

The “Lurking Mantises” made a splendid sight above the jiteng field. They were the finest team in all the western mountains; noblemen and women from the finest families of the Vakïdurii tribe. They were the pride and glory of the clans - the very best that the Vakïdurii had to offer.

Ranged against them was a shifting cloud of royal blue. Agile shapes whirred casually from side to side with an easy, affable camaraderie. Kotaru’s Wrens chatted back and forth as they wheeled eagerly through the skies.

The ball rose, and the Mantis captain snatched it up with almost casual ease. She snapped her fingers, signaling her team mates to advance. From the Wren’s team a single figure speared out towards the Mantis lines.

“Follow me!”

Suddenly the air blurred full of wings as Kotaru soared up high into the sky, followed by a whooping stream of players. They curled and dove, streaking down towards the Mantis captain. The Mantis stumbled, squawking to her wingmen in alarm.

Noblemen lunged forward, each eager to be first teamsman to engage. With a ringing cry the Wrens shot past them. Wings folded, bodies dove; a rain of ïsha blows punched one after another at the Mantis captain. The girl dropped the ball, watching helplessly as a Wren snatched it up in passing.

There was no discipline, no orders! The Wrens called vulgar greetings as they tossed and caught the ball. Their Captain flew everywhere at once, always covering the teamsman with the ball. The Wrens whooped for joy as Mrrimïmei dashed home to take the goal. The crowd croaked in shock, stunned by the disaster happening on the field.

The Mantises, the prime team of the Vakïdurii, were being thrashed by an untutored group of commoners! Here and there a tiny group of dissidents cheered-on the Wrens, but the bulk of the audience seemed too deeply shocked to even cry.

Three nil! The Wrens were winning three goals to nil!

Perched up on the royal tree, Chief Gingïkai of the Lacewing clan gnawed at his fists in rage.

“Fools! They’re making themselves a laughing stock! Can’t they see the Wren’s fast forward cannot turn? She’s fast, but she’s too fast to manoeuvre! If they’d just get off their arses and make a strong rear defense line…”

“Rear? I’ll show their rears something!” A second Chief smashed his dao into the branch. “This is the worst disaster of the decade!”

Clan Chieftains stared aghast as the Wrens stole the ball and skipped nimbly clear of the Mantises’ pursuit. The King beamed out in approval.

Groans sounded from the crowd as the angry Mantises rushed off in pursuit of the Wren’s agile young Fast Forward. Mrrimïmei whirled her staff and stuck out her tongue, flitting gleefully just out of reach of her pursuer’s claws. With a howl of rage the Mantises screamed off in pursuit; not one of them had noticed that she no longer had the ball.

The Wren’s Captain watched the Mantises with something akin to weary sorrow before casually flipping the ball down through the goals. The crowd stared in absolute astonishment.

The Mantises had lost; it was a Wren victory four goals to none.

Suddenly the crowd seemed to find its voice, and a shout of triumph roared through the air. They cheered because it simply seemed the thing to do. For years afterwards jiteng enthusiasts would talk about the day they saw a legend born.

Out on the field the Wrens flung themselves into each other’s arms. They had played in a state of dream-like shock, watching themselves in disbelief as goal after goal went home. Kotaru ripped away his mask and shook his whiskers free of sweat.

“We won. We-we won! I don’t believe it!”

“Believe it! Wind and Fire, believe it!” Mrrimïmei crushed Kotaru hard against her armoured chest. “I have never, ever won anything before in all my life!”

Another girl, Tingtraka, kissed Kotaru on the nose, and his team mates cheered as their captain’s ears blushed red.

King Latikai waded through the crowd to pound Kotaru on the shoulderblades.

“Well boy, you’ve done me proud. I knew you’d not disappoint me.” He slapped Kotaru’s shoulders once again, nearly blasting the smaller man clean into the ground. “Four nil! Four nil, who’d believe it? There’s one to tell your grandchildren, eh? The day you beat all odds and won your fame!”

The King gave the lad a victory hug that audibly cracked his ribs, then whirled Kotaru around and bellowed for the crowd’s attention.

“People! People o’ the Vakïdurii, I present the winning team, the Superb Blue Wrens!”

The King ruffled Kotaru’s hair, nearly rattling his brains.

“It is my pride, nay, t’is my privilege to declare the Superb Blue Wrens our champion team…” The wild cheers of the crowd nearly drowned him out. “… and to further declare that they shall represent us against the Katakanii tribe.”

The air roared as the tribesfolk surged their wings in applause. Kotaru reeled around in wonder, scarcely able to believe his fortune. He stared out into open space, seeing nothing but a pair of deep green eyes…

The victors were swept away into the arms of the crowd. Laikikai straightened his jewelry and sidled off to find the captain of the Mantis team. He discovered her stripping away her wooden greaves, and duly slapped the woman on the back.

“A fine game, lass! Well played and quite convincing. Aaaaah, if only my son had been here to give you the benefit o‘ his leadership. I’m sure…”

“Hmmmmm-ha, in any case, an admirable demonstration, although perhaps laid on a mite too thick. Four nil? Fire and Poison, girl, who’s going to believe that? Three-four would have been a better margin! Y’ took your orders far too literally. In the future, more initiative and less…”

“No one gave me any skreggin’ instructions! Damned fool idea in any case. Special game - intertribal matches! Whose brilliant notion was this?”

The King’s antennae rose in horror.

“What d’ you mean no special instructions?” He grabbed the woman by the chest. “You were supposed to lose! That’s how it happened! Y’ don’t mean to tell me that a bunch o’ untrained commoners…”

The Mantis angrily tore free from King Latïkai’s claws.

“All I know is that we just got our tails whipped! Beaten by a flock of fledgling Wrens.”

The King whirled to stare as the Wrens surged off into the village, thrilled with their outrageous victory. Laikïtai could only sag down upon a mouldy log as an endless stream of disasters opened out before his eyes…

***

Shadarii frowned in concentration with her green eyes fixed on empty air. Two glittering blades swung into guard as she settled her grip and crouched in anticipation.

Suddenly the girl streaked forwards. Orange wings swept out like sheets of fire, and bundles of dried grass tumbled down in fragments as she passed them by. Shadarii folded up and turned a somersault, splitting a target at the midpoint of her roll. Her dao clove beneath the target, sending wood and straw spinning to the ground.

Damn!

Shadarii screeched to a halt, angrily hurtling down her knives. She had missed by almost half a handspan, enough to take someone’s head off! Days and days of work, and still she had no progress to show Traveesha. The girl furiously sat down on the grass and thrashed her tail in spite.

Skreg it, skreg it, skreg it!

“Shadarii! Shadarii, are you there?”

A great fat figure stood by the stream, gesturing imperiously. The High Priestess! Shadarii rapidly smoothed her hair and tried to make herself presentable.

“Shadarii! Come lass, I have the most wonderful news for you. Your sister and I have made the most marvelous plans!”

Shadarii landed neatly in the grass and dropped into a formal bow. She remained with eyes downcast before the priest, her wings shading her from the woman’s gaze.

The High Priestess gave a loving, predatory smile.

“Oh do get up, my dear! Come come, formality is only for the ‘mundanes’. You are almost one of us now. There’s no need for ducks and bows!”

“Aaaah, I knew you’d be excited! Think of it, my dear; an exulted position amongst the tribe, status beyond your wildest dreams! In the future you could even rise to become High Priestess.”

Shadarii scrabbled frantically to her feet, her eyes wild with panic. She looked up at the Priest and tried to plead. The old Priestess saw the girl’s alarm and crowed.

“What? Tears and panic? Don’t be silly girl! T’will be the adventure of a lifetime. Don’t you want to be a Priest?”

Shadarii frantically shook her head. She looked about herself in fright, trying to find some means of escape - someone who could help! Father! Did father know?

Somebody help her!

The wily Priest changed tack, and her voice became an insidious, subtle croon.

“Shadarii, I have planned this for your own good. Have you heard them laughing at you? Haven’t you seen them sneering at the girl who has no voice? It hurts, doesn’t it, to be the laughing stock. Always the odd one out! Always the girl without a friend…” The old woman bent to whisper in Shadarii’s ear. “It can all be yours, my dear. Power to stand in pride! Status to hurtle straight back in their faces! Her Reverence Shadarii-Zho¹ will be a name to love - to fear. No one will ever dare to laugh at you again!”

Shadarii wept, trying to tear words out of her throat. She tugged at the Priestess’ robes and tried to form a pleading little pantomime. She touched her forehead and made the sign for ‘dancer’.

“Your Ka? Oh, your soul longs to dance!” She beamed and spread her hands. “Hush dear, dry your tears. We have a great need of dancers. Shadarii, you will discover stories that you never knew existed. All the tales of the past will be yours to treasure, yours to dance. Come, take my hand! Take my hand and join our special world.”

Shadarii’s pathetic pleas continued; finally the High Priestess reached out to crush Shadarii down beneath her will. She recoiled as the girl’s ïsha field lashed back with monstrous power. The Priest span backwards, blasted by Shadarii’s frantic energy.

Shadarii stared at the Priest in horror, barely aware of what she had just done. The old woman’s eyes were finally lit with rage.