A Whisper of Wings Read online

  Daimïru flew behind her; all was as it should be.

  The women speared through the mist, their wings cutting swathes of phosphorescence in their wakes. Zhukora banked past a looming tree trunk and swirled down beside her forward scouts.

  The man knelt beside a massive something that gleamed against the forest floor. Smooth green stone had been carved into shapes; there was something like a nose and eyes, the broken tips of wings…

  It was a buried statue!

  Zhukora knelt down and touched the thing with marvelling hands. A life-sized Kashra had been buried neck-deep in the mould. The artistic style seemed crude and barbarous - an object from the uncultured ages past.

  The other hunters gathered as Daimïru took her dao and dug down into the dirt. She uncovered the statue’s shoulders, chest and breasts. The girl exhausted herself long before she reached the statue’s waist.

  Curious; still, it might look good outside the lodge. Zhukora stroked her muzzle and wondered whether it was too heavy to be carried home, until her train of thought was disturbed by another urgent call.

  “Hunt leader! Another one!”

  A second statue stood, facing the first. Hunters spread out and began scratching at the mould.

  “Here’s another!”

  “And here! Another!

  Someone had found a third - and then a fourth, a fifth, a sixth dwindling off into the gloom. The mist held hundreds of shapes, ranked into a silent avenue.

  Zhukora gazed along the lines of statues and signalled her followers aloft.

  “Follow; we’ll see where this leads.”

  Great wings stirred as the hunters drifted quietly in the mist. Beneath them the lines of statues led their way into the mountain peaks - up into a land of bitter winds and barren, folded rocks. Finally the trail led to a massive, broken cliff, and the Kashra drifted earthwards one by one.

  The ïsha stilled, and the birds had stopped their singing. Leaves swirled and rattled through a dead, forgotten world. The hunters stood amongst a vast wilderness of crumbled walls. Huts? Lodges? Who could tell. The ruins lay like the green bones of an ancient corpse. Zhukora landed in a sea of brittle weeds, her nose twitching to the pungent, acrid scents of broken greenery.

  A huge cave yawned before them; a strange, smooth tunnel with walls slick as a dripping tongue. The line of statues plunged straight into the cavern’s heart.

  Round, grey stones paved the ground before the cave. Daimïru knelt to run her hand across the surface, and a piece broke off beneath her touch. Puzzled, Daimïru took her knife, broke a lump of paving free and turned it over in her grasp.

  Empty eye sockets stared madly back at her.

  The girl gave a croak and hurtled the thing away, while hunters scattered in superstitious dread. A skull was the seat of a being’s Ka. No Kashra would touch the leavings of the dead.

  Deep within the cavern, the ïsha slowly stirred. Zhukora seemed fascinated by the cave; step by step she drew closer, her footsteps crunching on the rotten skulls. Daimïru swallowed, her pulse pounding in her throat.

  “Stay back, Zhukora! There-there might be spirits!”

  Zhukora’s voice whispered with a strange intensity.

  “Daimïru, don’t you feel it? Can’t you feel the power here?” Zhukora’s fur stood all on end. “Sweet Rain, the air’s alive!”

  “Come back! The place reeks of evil! There might be an ïsha vampire.”

  “But why fear it? We could hunt it! Kill it!”

  “Zhukora?”

  The lean black huntress stared into the dark, her eyes strangely bright and hungry.

  “A challenge. To face it down alone! The ultimate test - Power against power, soul against soul! The loser falling down into absolute oblivion…”

  The leader breathed a long, deep breath. Finally she turned back to her followers, and her face seemed animated with strange new energy.

  “We camp here for the night.” She looked around with bright blue eyes. “Yes, here amongst the ruins! Let us see what dreams the night stars bring.”

  The hunters looked unhappily about themselves, peering at the ruins. Zhukora reached out to fold her people in the power of her gaze.

  “Don’t be afraid. I am with you.”

  She walked into the weeds, her tail trailing out behind her, and without hesitation, the other hunters followed in her footsteps.

  By nighttime the ruins had given up a yield of puzzles; here a lump of rusted iron - there a row of tiny figurines. Rocks had been fused and melted like long strips of ice. The hunters had searched all day and still there were no answers. What had happened here, and why had even the faintest ïsha traces fled?

  There were tales of the past that were never danced. Many fists of years¹ ago the Kashra had been more numerous. They had dug houses in the soil and had thronged the skies. And then - what was it now? Something bad had happened…

  Shadarii would have known. The cripple sucked up stories like a toad hoarding water. For once the little mute might actually have been useful; Zhukora found the thought strangely irritating.

  The firelight stained the weeds a dreary, spectral grey, making hunters pull their sleeping robes about their shoulders. There were no possums creeping through the boughs; the bats and frogmouthed owls seemed to shun the very air. The only animals worth eating were snakes and warty toads, but the stringy meat seemed to lack all taste. For some reason Zhukora ate her meal with avid speed. Finally she wiped her fingers on her leggings and reached out to find her weapons.

  “We set a watch tonight. Two of us will be awake at any time. Each time the fire begins to fade we change one sentry.”

  With twenty to share the watch, the waiting would be easy. Zhukora threw away her sleeping robe and slung her spears.

  “I’ll take the first watch.”

  Ever loyal, ever watchful, Daimïru silently followed Zhukora out into the dark. As the other hunters turned back to their food, Zhukora left the campfire far behind and walked into the empty lands of stone.

  Black hair shimmered - blonde hair shone. Daimïru’s quiet voice finally broke through the silence.

  “You’re going to the cave.”

  “Yes. Go back to the others. It’s too dangerous to follow.”

  “No. I will stay where I belong.”

  The cavern seemed nothing but a patch of thicker darkness. Light flared as Zhukora spat the ïsha into life, and a dry branch crackled as flame caught in its crown. With a torch held firmly in her hand, the huntress led the way across the field of mouldering skulls and down into the cave.

  Light died against a wall of liquid black. ïsha discharge snapped and sparked across the metal weapons while Zhukora crouched with wings spread wide. Antennae quivered as she sniffed a sense of presence. Zhukora hissed in challenge, fangs flashing in her cruelly perfect face.

  The women stalked into the depths. Overhead, the ceiling opened out until it faded far from view, and walls glistened slick as eelskin in the torchlight. Daimïru and Zhukora reached the far end of the cave only to find it blocked by rocks; their journey had come abruptly to an end.

  Shattered Kashran skeletons were strewn across the floor. In the breathless air the dead had withered into shrunken mummies. Daimïru kept her spear cocked in its woomera, her eyes fixed upon the screaming faces of the dead. The huntress almost feared to speak within the oppressive silence.

  “Th-the tribe. Nochorku-Zha will want to know. About the cave, I mean.”

  “The tribe!” Zhukora gave a snort, then kicked a withered corpse. “Nochorku-Zha and his heroic band of elders. Why waste our time in telling them?”

  Zhukora tried to hide her disappointment. The cavern’s promise of adventure had withered; there were no enemies to battle, no wild discoveries to thrill their eyes. Only broken corpses and an empty, useless hole.

  “Nothing! No more life than my stupid father!” Zhukora stamped on an ancient skull. “Useless! All useless. We’re wasting our damned time! Nothing ever goes the wa
y it should!”

  “Zhukora!”

  The leader slammed her fist against the wall.

  “Nochorku-Zha! That thief Prakucha! Rules and ties and regulations!” Zhukora reeled as the sickness twisted at her brain. “Fire’s death! It makes me burn every time I think of them. There’s no hope, no freedom. Just endless repetition on and on and on…”

  *Stop snivelling girl. If the world offends thee, go out and change it!*

  Zhukora jerked in shock. She leapt and snatched her spears, slamming her back against the wall.

  “Who’s there! Come out and show yourself!”

  Daimïru blinked.

  “Zhukora?”

  Her leader stared out into the dark, breasts heaving in alarm. Daimïru looked around in puzzlement.

  “Leader, what is it? Did you hear something?”

  Zhukora stared into the dark, relaxing bit by bit. She finally released a long, slow breath.

  “Nothing! It was nothing. The cave is empty.”

  Slowly relaxing from her battle stance, Daimïru sighed in gratitude.

  “Let’s go back then. There’s nothing for us here. Just bones and stinking rags.”

  “You go and wake your relief. I’ll join you shortly.”

  “I’ll stay with you.”

  The torchlight flickered across Zhukora’s face.

  “Go! I said go! I’ll follow. It’s… It’s quiet here. I just need - I just need some time alone to think.”

  There was no arguing with her; Daimïru reluctantly spread her wings and flitted from the cavern.

  Zhukora waited until the night grew still once more. She stood within a ring of skulls, her long hair spilling down to glitter in the dark.

  “Show yourself. Come out and face me! Or are you nothing but a coward skulking in the dust?”

  The words echoed in the empty cavern. Zhukora merely glared and waited.

  The ïsha trembled as a titanic presence slowly split away from the dark. Its light spilled up from corpses, from rocks and ancient crevaces, while unseen winds swirled and hammered through the cave.

  *I am here, girl. I have watched thee - felt thee - waited patiently for thy coming. It is rare to find a creature such as thee.*

  The girl confronted the shifting glimmer of the Ka.

  “What do you mean a creature such as I? What sort of creature?”

  *One who holds the world within her hand. Thou walk’st through the dream of power like an all-consuming star!*

  Zhukora slowly let her spear sink down and suspiciously eyed the huge presence hovering about her.

  “You speak nonsense. How is it you can speak at all?”

  *I am not some pathetic nature spirit! I like the world, girl. I like the power of it.*

  “So why speak now? Why show yourself at all?”

  *I spoke because I am intrigued by thee. I spoke because I like what I have seen. I spoke because I can bear no more of thy pathetic, childish whining!*

  Zhukora’s jaw dropped in indignation.

  “You dare!”

  *Dare? Yes I dare! Zhukora. Zhukora the complainer. Zhukora the coward!*

  “I am Zhukora! Zhukora-kai-Nochorku-Zha. None dare call me coward!”

  *Prove it then! What mighty deeds has Zhukora done? What great achievements can she boast? What powers has she gained? Is she happy with her pathetic little life of servitude?*

  Zhukora‘s power blazed; she gave a snarl and punched out with a bolt of light, and the spirit casually parried it aside.

  *Thou would’st fight me, then? Good… It seems courage has not died in these last thousand years. Come daughter, still thy anger. We must speak together.*

  Zhukora hissed; the power still blazed within her hands.

  “Fight me! No one calls Zhukora coward!”

  *I will not fight thee, Zhukora the warrior. I shall not pluck this world’s most priceless flower. Come! I have a gift to bring to thee.*

  “What do you mean. What sort of gift?”

  *I bring thee the gift of sight.*

  The Spirit stirred, and corpses rolled and tumbled in the breeze.

  *This carrion, do you see them? A monument to their own cowardice. Where courage called to them, they responded with terror. They lost the purity of their vision.

  *If thou fear to take the future in thy grasp, it will always escape thee.*

  Zhukora scowled as the Ka glowed and coiled sinuously around her.

  *Thou crave’st for challenge? Then here is challenge for thee, Zhukora of the forest clans! Here is the test to prove thyself before the judgment of eternity! Thou say’st that thou wish changes? Then make the changes happen! Rise and take the future by the throat!*

  Zhukora’s breath grew ragged as she stared into nothingness, her mind alive with furious energy. She felt the power flowing through her - the dawning realisation of a wild dream of destiny!

  “I… I can do it!”

  She blinked, looking up in wonder at the being hanging there before her.

  “I can do it!”

  The girl gaped in wonder; a whole new world was opening up before her.

  A thousand years of stasis - a race trapped inside its self-made cage. Corruption slowly breeding in the stagnation. No challenges, no progression, like an animal pacing around and around again inside its pen until it drove its spirit mad.

  They must break free. Everything - everything must be changed! Like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis to soar into the sky, the people must be awakened.

  “It will take time! I-I must make plans. I never… I never really stopped to think…”

  *Thou art a hunter! Take the opportunities and strike with unrelenting fury. Thou art a thinker. Resolve thy obstacles into problems and deal with them one by one! Be ruthless. Be savage. Think only of the price of thy failure.*

  Zhukora looked up, her face lit by dawning joy.

  “Why? Why are you even interested in me? What does a spirit care about mere mortals?”

  *I care, Zhukora! This earth is dull - no fit place for brilliant creatures such as thee. I would see the world grow bright again. Find the dream! Light the fire sleeping in your soul and bring the glory back again!*

  Zhukora moved to the cavern mouth, her face still blazing with her revelation. The girl paused in the entrance, pulling her hair back from her face.

  “What is your name, my lord Ka? What should I know you by?”

  *My name is not important. But if thou wish’st, thou may call me Serpent.*

  “I thank you for your words, Lord Serpent. I thank you for your gift.”

  Zhukora moved out amongst the weeds, the spirit’s words drifting softly on the wind behind her.

  *I wish thee well, sweet daughter. I wish thee joy…*

  “Up! Move out! Move out!”

  Heads jerked as sleepy figures rose from the weeds. Zhukora streaked down beside the camp fire and kicked the embers flying.

  “On your feet! We’re moving. Hurry!”

  Hunters scrambled for their equipment. Daimïru crawled out of bed with her eyes blinking wide in puzzlement.

  “Zhukora! Is it danger?”

  “Danger? Yes, it’s danger. Danger of growing old within this hell! Danger of letting ourselves fade beneath their rules. It’s our world, our future! It’s time, my love! It’s time we flew out to ride the winds of destiny!”

  Daimïru’s face lit up with joy. Zhukora grabbed her hand and drew her laughing up into the air.

  “We can change the world, my love! We only have to want to make it happen. We can take the nightmare and turn it all around into a glorious new dream!” Zhukora buried her face in Daimïru’s shimmering blonde hair. “A future, Daimïru! It’s ours if we choose to make it! Will we sit and whimper, or fight to take what’s ours?”

  Daimïru clutched Zhukora’s waist, whirled by a dizzy rush of power as Zhukora reached out to her hunters with a cry.

  “Are you with me? Will you share The Dream?”

  Her answer came as a blaze
of adoration. The Hunters raised a howl of fury in the night, and wings swept out as Zhukora’s followers stormed up into the sky. They lost themselves within the ecstasy of Zhukora’s vision.

  Zhukora hung before them in the air, her soul ablaze with light.

  “Back to the village! We’re wasting no more time. Back - back to forge a future!”

  Wings flashed in the night! The band of hunters followed a dream into the dark, pulled behind Zhukora’s burning wake.

  ***

  Shaded prettily beneath a pair of orange wings, Shadarii sat basking in the rosy glow of a rich, creative mood. She had perched herself upon a rock in the middle of a waterfall, and clean white river foam surged her in a wild, refreshing spray. She sat cross on the rock, her beautiful soft tail curled around into her lap while her wings flipped open and closed in silent thought.

  A “music stick” lay in her lap. The long strip of wood had been notched with marks, each cut showing the positions of the fingers when blowing a note upon a long reed flute. It was a simple trick the music students used to memorise their tunes.

  The girl stared, her mind alive with tenuous thoughts. In a state of absolute absorbtion, she gazed out into nothingness and let the ideas take hold, tapping a piece of charcoal against her fuzzy chin.

  The name ‘Shadarii’ was a melding of three other words: Shadii Dalu Rïkra - “Precious gift of love”. A name honouring the mother that had borne her at the cost of her own life.