A Whisper of Wings (63 page)

Kïtashii staggered from the blood loss, and yet still the dance went on. From overhead there came a sudden growl of thunder while Sea-People laboured to work the heart and lungs of Tingtraka’s lolling corpse. Still the Teacher slept and quivered in her dreams.

Harïsh hung her head and wept. It was a blasphemy! The little Teacher had held such love. Why do this to her? Why couldn’t they let the woman die in peace?

High above them Mother Rain gave a shout of rage. The sky shivered to the crack of lightning bolts. Mother Rain still had the weapons given her by Fire. She hurtled them into battle with her ancient enemy.

Shadarii found herself alone in the darkness. She flailed helplessly and wondered where the world had gone, and her thoughts slowly seemed to struggle from a dream.

~I cast you out! Get back! You have no power here! I have freed myself from you!~

“Fool! I am the spirit of corruption. Poison lies within everything. Your own weaknesses have sent you straight into my grasp.”

The darkness rose up to claim Shadarii’s soul. She gave a sob and knew that she had failed.

Something bright burst in through the prison walls, swatting in a frenzy at Poison’s claws and somehow flitting from their grasp. A Ka looped and wheeled around Shadarii’s soul, bringing in the smell of leaves and rain. Tingtraka shone to give Shadarii a tiny point of light, and through that crack, the lightning fell into Shadarii’s hands.

Lightning struck, and suddenly Shadarii bucked to a wild inrush of power. A memory of cleanliness - a love that thundered through her with its power. The darkness shattered as Shadarii suddenly flew free. A scream of hatred faded far behind, and Shadarii took Tingtraka soaring back towards the world, spilling back into her body like a shower of healing rain.

Shadarii rose up from the ground and spread her arms to the sky. The whole forest seemed ablaze with power as the ïsha poured in through her soul. The bond of Rain and Wind still blessed their children. Shadarii threw up her hands in worship and stared into the eyes of love. The little dancer bowed and wept, power still crackling like sparks across her skin.

On the ground beside her, Tingtraka opened up her eyes. Kïtashii had collapsed into a puddled filled with her own blood. Shadarii stooped and swept her disciple up into her arms, and wounds disappeared to leave Kïtashii perfect and unblemished. The little dancer stirred and nestled softly in Shadarii’s grasp.

Harïsh fell down to her knees, too terrified to meet the Shining Lady’s eyes. She dared not give in to the woman’s spell of peace. She needed hate, she needed fury! There were demons to be killed!

Tingtraka walked slowly forward, the wind still moving through her hair. She glanced into the Silent Lady’s eyes and then turned towards Harïsh.

“Little healer, the Beloved one thanks you for all that you have done. She says there is much hate and bitterness inside your heart. You must not let your desire for vengeance destroy the good within you.”

Shadarii came forwards to caress Harïsh’s face. Tingtraka gave a smile.

“There is still much for thee to live for. The Teacher says the child within your womb will grow strong! It will be a boy. A boy with grey fur and golden eyes.”

“Love to you, golden healer. Return to your family with the blessings of the Rain. We shall all meet again when Silent Lady offers battle to the dark.”

The Teacher turned and softly wandered off into the leaves. In her footsteps, the forest bloomed with light.

*You will fight! Finally you will fight! The ordeal was worth everything if the final battle can be won!*

Starshine shivered in delight, hurtling images of mighty battles through Shadarii’s mind.

*Together we shall conquer! A perfect world is possible. A perfect peace and perfect order. It needs only thy hand above these little people. The forces of darkness destroyed after three thousand years of battle!*

Shadarii cradled Kïtashii and combed back her silver hair as the child slept a healing sleep inside her teacher’s arms. Shadarii gazed down at Kïtashii’s face and felt her power grow.

~The spirit ‘Serpent’ is allied to my sister. You have known it all along. This has all been for one thing, hasn’t it? You live only to destroy your enemy. You hope to use me as your weapon.~

*Foolish girl! Use thee? Never! It is a partnership.*
Starshine flashed with lights of pride and hate.
*Evil must be fought. Thou art the tool that providence has hurtled into my hands. I have devoted my entire existence to wiping Serpent’s evil from the earth. Thou hast been given to me to fulfil my holy mission!*

Shadarii bit back tears and held Kïtashii to her heart.

~Lady Poison spoke the truth. Corruption lies in all of us. You were my temptation. I took the easy path you offered and turned my back upon the way of light.~

The girl gazed off into the forest depths, then closed her eyes in pain.

~My poor poor Zhukora. So brilliant, so mad. I have seen you in my dreams and know our dance must soon come to an end. Did this ‘Serpent’ corrupt your mind, just as Starshine has tried to poison me?~

*I poison nothing! Serpent must be slain! No price is too high if evil is destroyed.*

Shadarii stood and turned, feeling the world’s currents flowing through her soul.

~I have been shown my error. Now I have been able to purge myself. I am pure enough to do what must be done.~
Shadarii cradled Kïtashii hard against her breasts, her eyes staring off into the shadows of the forest.
~Perhaps in the end you will learn a lesson too. Even for you it cannot be too late.~

*What are you drivelling about now?*

Shadarii closed her eyes and felt Kïtashii’s fur beneath her hands. In her mind’s eye she saw Kotaru smiling down into her eyes.

~My time is almost done. There was but one last thing I had to learn. The students have taught the teacher. They have shown me that sacrifice is the highest form of love.~

Shadarii held Kïtashii and rocked the little dancer like a beloved, sleeping babe.

~So much loss. So much sadness. It’s almost over now. One final lesson to teach the world, and then my rest can come.~

~So let it be…~

***

“It is called an oita, Lord. A weapon used in sports by the Zebedii. We have sparred with such weapons for a thousand years. They are developed from the double-bladed oars of our canoes.”

The Zebedii nobleman passed the weapon into Keketál's hands, and the tall hunter twirled it in his palms as though he had used such a weapon all his life. Behind him, two thousand trainee warriors had gathered around to watch. Keketál's fighters looked grim and efficient in their new felt armour and wooden helms. Every angry youngster and rebelious nobleman in the scattered tribes had come to join Lord Keketál’s band. Chiefs had sent their sons. Potters and carpenters had left their quiet villages. They had come to learn the forgotten skills of war.

Outlandish Zebedii leaned upon their oitas and looked across the crowds. The Zebedii were savage creatures with bright dyed fur and stiffened crests of hair. Their chieftain snapped his fingers and brought his son running to his side.

“Saisan! Two fighters! Padded staves.”

“Sir!”

Two men immediately hurtled themselves up into the air. Before the plainsmen had time to blink the air resounded to an almighty crash. Oitas cracked like lightning, and one fighter tumbled to the ground. The survivor whirled down to land before the nobles. He snapped into a bow and waited to be dismissed while his Chief turned towards Lord Keketál.

“We can train your men in the use of oita. It is a fitting weapon for a war. The Zebedii tribe wishes to place its warriors under your command.”

Keketál’s eyes were so very wise and brown. He looked down at the creature from the marsh and carefully weighed his words.

“Why? Why follow Keketál?”

“We choose Keketál because he is a stranger.” The Chief’s oita pointed straight at Keketál. “This one is not of the plains. We have not clashed with him in council. There is no bad blood between us. He would fight alone, but welcomes aid. He asks, but does not beg. It is enough. The Zebedii have chosen.”

Keketál took the Chief’s oita in his hands. A white skull mask had been propped up on a stump nearby. The weapon scythed down to hack the mask in two. The hardwood blade clove deep into the stump. Keketál ripped the weapon free and gave a savage grin.

“Bring your men! Keketál accepts your warriors. Show Keketál’s people how to fight with oita! We split demon bitch in two and dance upon her bones!”

The Zebedii warriors howled for joy and tossed their weapons to the ground, then flung themselves into the ranks of Keketál’s astonished men. Suddenly the island rang with the sound of laughter. The men hooted and flung each other in the swamp, tumbling like brats as they tugged each other’s ears.

The Zebedii chieftain cracked the cap from a flask of Hupshu’s mead and tossed the bottle over to Keketál.

“Now we drink! We drink and tell many lies about our women! Tomorrow there is war. Today we shall drink beer!”

Keketál was suddenly tossed into the pond. The Zebedii chieftain stood on the banks and laughed until Hupshu tripped him in the mud. Keketál laughed and hurtled himself into the fun. Life suddenly seemed worth living. They could win - finally they could win! He had a wife, a life, a hope! Keketál could finally taste the future in his grasp.

Chapter Twenty Five

The air trembled to the beat of wings as the rainbow hordes began to march. They drove through a wilderness of burned villages and smoking fields, and from horizon to horizon their numbers blackened out the skies. Here and there a single figure dipped and wheeled against the storm. Their masks and costumes blazed with all the colours of a madman’s dreams.

Beside a stream Daimïru cracked into a salute, then looked briskly up into her leader’s eyes.

“Zhukora, scout flock seven has returned. They report the entire border district is deserted. We have eliminated no more villages. Our lead units are now striking nothing but empty huts and fields.”

Zhukora sat quietly in meditation beside a flowing stream, black hair streaming around her naked body like a sheen of night. She looked into Daimïru’s eyes and gave a smile.

“So the barbarians anticipated our invasion? Good, good. The prey does us honour at last. The great hunt shall be a challenge.

“What are our casualties?”

“Perhaps a hundred dead. We have hurt the enemy as badly. They are attempting shoot and flight tactics against us. Small groups of enemy fire at us with slings and then attempt to escape.” Daimïru’s spear glistened wet with blood, and the orgasmic afterglow of killing hung heavy in her eyes. “Their magic use can’t compete with ours. Our warriors’ jiteng training serves us well.”

“How did our casualties occur?”

“Some sling hits. One team was destroyed in its entirety in hand to hand. Rooshïkii has given us a positive ID; it is the officer who attacked our group at River-Bend. ‘Keketál the Stranger’. A dangerous man, motivated and intelligent.”

Zhukora closed her eyes and reassumed her position of meditation.

The enemy skirmishers were trying to buy time for their army to form. Zhukora read their intent and gave a smile; she fully intended the enemy army to complete formation. She wanted them gathered into one killing ground where they could fall before her spears.

“Tell me more about this Keketákl.”

“He is an outlander, but we have no information as to his original origin. A good fighter. He has a trained band of two thousand warriors; the only battle-trained force the plains people possess.”

Zhukora’s plan of battle had been brilliantly conceived. The gargantuan tasks of preparing food, creating maps and scouting the enemy forces each had to be defined and invented. Zhukora’s people pursued their art with a fanaticism that would have terrified their ancestors.

No arguments, no division; there was only a single driving sense of mission. One race, one will, one destiny. The Dream had finally gone to war.

A hundred Kashra ringed the trees of a sacred grove, and the air rang to a chaos of arguments and screams. Speakers danced in outrage while priests hurtled abuse; the defence council of the Coalition had begun another typical day.