fire, air, earth, water...

Flame…

The girl stood absolutely still, hands relaxed by her side. Eyes closed, she stilled her breathing, listening for a footstep, a rustle of cloth on cloth. In a heartbeat she pulled the knives from their sheaths on her thighs and spun to face her attacker, her right foot circling to make contact with his temple – he ducked. Quick as lightning her other foot shot out to knock him to the ground. Ducking under the sword aiming for her neck, she brought her knife across the new attacker’s gut. She readied herself for the next attack.
Now a new attacker advanced towards her, holding an itaii. Crouching for a moment, she skipped away just as he swung the double-ended spear at her, ducking under his next swing only to come up as he tried to skewer her. Jerking backwards, she lost her balance and fell, dropping her knives.
With a smile, her attacker stabbed down with his itaii, aiming for her heart. Grabbing the weapon in both hands, she used it to lever him over her head, with the help of her foot.
In one movement she was back on her feet, knives in hand.
“What exactly were you playing at, boy?” The tone of Master Teakin’s voice would’ve made even the bravest fighter squirm. “Ye could’ve killed somebody with a stunt like that! Lucky for ye Kira’s as quick as anything.” Teakin paused for breath, watching the boys getting to their feet and dusting themselves off.
“That was a cool down exercise, not an all out competition! I never want to see team ups again. Ye were only supposed to be going through the movements with yer partner. Honestly, the way ye lot act…”
At least the boys had the decency to look ashamed, scuffing their feet in the dust and avoiding the Master’s eyes.
“The aim of that particular exercise was to disarm yer opponent, knock’ em to the ground or use yer chosen weapon to score on ‘em.” Teakin breathed in and out, in and out. “Seeing as none o’ ye lot are the sharpest sword in the armoury, I want ye three here tomorrow morn as soon as the sun’s up. Got it?”
“Aye, sir.” The boys chorused.
“Right, now get yerself off to yer rooms,” after a moment’s thought he added “And bathe before ye come out for dinner, ye all stink worse than pigs!”
As the boys moved off to pack away their gear before heading towards their rooms, Kira slowly made her way over to the benches lining the inside of the practice ring fence and sat, wincing as tight and overworked muscles protested. After placing her wooden practice knives on the bench and taking a sip of water from the water skin, Kira slid onto the ground to stretch her aching limbs. It had been a long, exhausting, day. As she touched her toes and rubbed her leg muscles, Kira looked around her.
The sun was just about to drop below the trees, the light showing all the dust that had been kicked up. The stables were behind her, she could hear the horses being readied for sleep, and off to her right was the archery range with only a few students still practicing in the fading light.
The weapons shed was off to her left, with some students cleaning and packing away their used weapons. Ringing the practice grounds were many carefully tended gardens, hiding from view the expansive manor and student housing.
After twisting her back one way then the other, Kira got to her feet and put the water skin and the wooden knives into her satchel, slung it over her shoulder and vaulted the fence, which came up to her chest, then took the nearest path through the gardens.
The steady crunching of her feet on the path had a meditating effect, making her think. As whenever she had a moment to herself to think, she thought of her family.
Her Grandfather had told her stories of the Order’s coming to power when his mother had been just a little girl. How, in the confusion of the royal family’s disappearance, a group of well-known nobles had assumed control of the land, calling themselves the Noble Order of White. They’d made their new declarations, torn down schools, and reassured the people of Aiganthea that they knew what was best for them and the land.
When Kira had asked her grandfather why the order had torn down the schools, his answer had been that if the people couldn’t read, then they couldn’t read history, then they wouldn’t know what it was like before the Order.
Back in her room, Kira removed the length of cloth that covered her hair and shook it out of its braid, her red hair springing into curls that fell half way down her back. She sat down on her bed, her eyes stinging with tears she refused to cry.
Kira missed her parents, her home, her grandfather. She hated always having to prove herself to the arrogant boys. She hated the Order’s declarations against women, that they must cover their hair, and be obedient to their fathers, then to their husbands, that women were nothing more than property. Most of all she hated going to sleep.
Every night since the fire Kira had been having dreams, nightmares. She’d relived that day over and over, each time waking with cold sweat drenching her body and painful tears running down her face.
Except in the last few weeks they’d changed, they began the same, but other dreams would come through the flames. These new dreams shook her like the others didn’t. Perhaps because she couldn’t wake from them, and they seemed different, more real.
In some she was staring into a huge eye that seemed to hold all knowledge of history, and even some of the future. In the reflection of this eye she would see many things. From bloody battles to the building of cities in a matter of moments, to a bottle of poison held over a cup of ale, or wine, or sometimes milk.
Others were just mere scraps of images, and darkness.
Kira had always been brave as a little girl, but these dreams had caused her to dread the coming of dark, so she now always had an extra lamp burning.
She looked at herself in the mirror, dark shadows under her usually sparkling brown eyes. Apart from her face, her skin was completely covered. Her tunic was long sleeved and fell almost to her knees, tight breeches filling the gap between it and her long boots.
As always, she’d eaten with the other women of the house, while the boys ate in the student’s hall. Kira felt lost, she didn’t belong to either group, and wasn’t accepted by them. At first she hadn’t minded the arrangement, she had plans and nothing would stop her, but now the loneliness had set in, and her only friend was her mare, Amaris.
Making up her mind, Kira hurried from the room, taking care to lock it behind her, and headed off to the stables. If she were caught she would be kicked out, for being out of her room after curfew, for having her hair uncovered, and for riding without permission.
Keeping to the shadows she stole her way to the servants’ door and slipped out of the student quarters into the gardens. Now she could enjoy herself, for if anyone saw her, they would get themselves in trouble by telling. Nobody was supposed to out in the gardens after nightfall.
She quickly bridled Amaris, not worrying about a saddle, and led her to the hidden gate in the wall behind the stables. She’d discovered this gate soon after she’d arrived while looking for a place to prepare in quiet.
Once on the other side of the gate, Kira breathed in the cool air of the ancient forest, and swung up into the saddle. With a soft click of her tongue, they were off, weaving their way through the slender trees.
The quiet of the old forest calmed her, and soon they came to a strange clearing that had a solemn hill rising from the centre. Kicking Amaris into a canter, they circled the hill, rising each time. The top of the hill became a kind of plateau, and Kira could see the moonlight making patterns on the grass and trees all around her.
A breeze blew her loose hair out behind her, and she closed her eyes. It was a rare thing to feel cool air on her neck. Breathing in deeply, she opened her eyes.
There was a shadow in the trees that moved differently. The moonlight caught it for a moment.
Another horse, Kira thought, and wheeled Amaris round to gallop down the other side of the hill. She pulled up just as they reached the trees to look behind her. A horse was topping the hill. Kira’s breath caught in her throat, it was the most magnificent creature she had ever seen, its body was white, and its head and legs were smaller, but longer, and more graceful than any normal horse. Kira looked closer.
“A horn?” she whispered. The strange creature turned her way, as if it had heard her speak, and she could clearly see the horn that was as long and thin as a rapier. It shook out its mane and reared onto its hind legs. A call, like that of a young stallion, echoed through the trees, but it was more musical then any stallion call.
It took Kira a moment to realise that she was hearing the call in her mind, not with her ears, and that soft tears were slowly running down her cheeks. She didn’t know why she was crying, but it felt as if all the tension from the last month left her, leaving her feeling empty. She looked towards the strange creature again, which had come down onto all fours. Swishing its tail, the moonlight engulfed it and its silhouette faded into the night.
Realising she’d been holding her breath, Kira stared at the spot where It had been, breathing hard. All of a sudden, she felt bone wearingly tired, and let Amaris take her home.
For the first time in months, she slept dreamlessly, and awoke to the sounds of birds welcoming the sun. She smiled to herself and snuggled further into her bed.
Just a moment more, she thought. When she was sure she could here people moving about outside in the hall, she threw back the covers and swung her legs round, yawning and stretching, to get up.
Kira splashed cold water onto her face, feeling more awake than ever, and pulled on her tunic and breeches, winding her lar-ryn about her head to cover her hair. Next she struggled into her boots, and left the room, locking it on her way.
She didn’t feel like facing the other students this morning, so made her way to the kitchens, which were located the two dining halls, one each for men and women. The smell inside was delicious, and no one noticed her in the bustle of preparing breakfast. Swiping an apple, a roll and a sausage, she left again to collect her satchel before going down to the training yards.
She was one of the first to arrive, so went into the stables to check on Amaris. The boys from yesterday were mucking out the stalls, and didn’t look particularly happy. Amaris was snoozing in her stall, but opened her eyes as soon as she heard Kira approach. After a quick kiss in the nose and a few oats, Kira made her way around to the back of the stables for a moment of peace and quiet. Once there she found a comfortable place on the grass and sat with her legs crossed, hands relaxed on her knees.
Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and found her place of focus and peace. She hadn’t been able to do this in a long time because her dreams would always distract her. When she could feel her legs beginning to go to sleep, she stood up and began to stretch and warm up, pulling her legs into impossible positions near her ears. Her mother had been an acrobat and dancer for the court in her younger days, and had taught her daughter all her tricks, and although Kira wasn’t the most graceful dancer, she had a natural flexibility.
Reaching her arms up over her head, Kira leant back till her hands touched the ground, and kicked her legs over slowly, enjoying the feeling of stretching muscles that hadn’t been for a while. Next she knelt on the grass, putting her forearms on the ground and kicking her legs over to stand up.
Kira pulled out her knives to go through her paces, spinning them to warm up her wrists, drawing them and re-sheathing over and over again. She began her warm up routine, which involved rolling to the ground and back up again, thrusts, feints, blocks, and weapon less techniques. Ending with a move called ‘Pouncing Tigress’, Kira wiped the sweat from her forehead and ate the rest of her now cold sausage before putting her knives back in the satchel and emerging from behind the stables to join the other boys that had begun to arrive and warm up.
Chuckling to herself, she could see some pretty sloppy work from some of the boys, Kira went over to a bench and laid out her practice knives and her water skin, which she had filled from the barrel next to the weapon’s shed.
Ethan was working on his sword work, his favourite weapon. Jerome preferred no weapon, and Ian had a soft spot for the iitai. Other boys were working in pairs, on their own or going over their tack. Master Teakin wouldn’t put up with neglected equipment.
“All righ’ folks,” said Teakin as he came into the centre of the ring. “Today we’re goin’ to have a kind o’ tournament. Names are goin’ to be drawn to see who will compete with who, and the winner will go on to compete with others. If you find yerself unlucky enough to be the loser of the bout, I want ye to pay attention, and pick up any faults, weaknesses that the other competitors may have. This is an importan’ skill. Now, first up is…” Teakin pulled out a scrappy piece of parchment from his pocket, and scrutinised it for a moment.
“Kira and Alexander. The weapon for today will be, lets see, the staff.”
Both stood and collected a staff each from the rack and came into the centre, the other boys clearing the ring. They sized each other up. Alexander was taller than her, not many were, and she could see his arms were strongly muscled.
“Begin.” Teakin said. Alexander instantly swung at her head. Too easy, she thought to herself, he’s not concentrating. While he continued to make stupid swings at her, Kira weaved and swayed like a snake. She could see he was getting frustrated. He finally made the move she’d been waiting for, a crazy, pointless swing that threw off his balance. She swerved to the left, bringing her staff up to knock his away, and, pivoting hers in her other hand, gave him a little help to fall flat on his face.
Kira went over to his staff and, picking it up, tossed it back to him. Alexander’s face was bright red, but he still caught it and stood facing her, ready once more. Except this time he knew she was no mere girl.
“Damn chivalry.” Muttered Teakin.
What happened next was such a flurry of blocks and parries, that even the Master found it hard to follow. All any one knew was one moment both were fighting furiously, and the next, Alexander’s staff had been knocked out of his hands and he was lying flat on his back in the dirt.
Kira flicked her staff so that its end was resting on Alexander’s throat.
“Dost thou yield, sir?” She said, speaking the words of ceremony.
“Aye, I do” He replied.
It took a long time for the other fourteen boys to fight their bouts with their partners, but eventually, it was Kira’s turn again. This time against Samuel. He was a handsome, blue eyed, blonde haired boy who thought rather highly of himself, due to the fact that his father worked for the Order directly.
“Begin” Teakin said. Kira and Samuel circled each other, testing responses and looking for weaknesses, but the result was the same, with Samuel on his back yielding to Kira, wondering how he got there.
After helping him up, and trying to ignore the glances sent her way, she went back over to her bench to watch the other boys, wondering who she’d be up against next.
“Kira, Ethan,” Teakin said some time later, “in the centre, and I don’t want any funny business from ye two, eh?”
“Of course, sir” Ethan replied.
“Righ’ then, begin.”
Immediately, Ethan came at her and she was forced to block again and again. She used his own weight to swing him past her while blocking his staff. Now it was her turn to attack. Kira was moving so fast, Ethan could barely block her, moving further and further backwards as he tried to avoid her staff. Eventually he ran into the fence, so Kira, deciding he’d had enough, knocked his staff away and held hers against his neck.
“Dost thou yield, sir?” She asked.
“Never” was the reply, and Ethan spat in her face. As she recoiled, wiping her face, Ethan grabbed his sword from the bench and knocked her staff out of her hands. As the sword ‘sung’ past her ear, she realised it wasn’t his practise sword.
“Stupid boy,” muttered Teakin, “should’ve yielded.”
She needed to move fast, so flipped backwards across the ring to the centre, where she waited for Ethan to catch up. He came at her, and swung at her neck, and then her legs, forcing Kira to duck and jump.
He’s given into his anger, she thought, big mistake.
She continued to snake her way around him, frustrating him so he was no longer using any of his sword skills, nor much of his brain.
He made a thrust at her gut, but she curved her body over the blade. Instantly she grabbed hold of Ethan’s wrists, twisting them so he dropped his sword, and kneed him in the groin. As he lay hunched up in the dirt, Kira flicked up his sword with her toes, snatching it smoothly in mid air and pointed it dangerously close to his face.
“Now dost thou yield?” she asked him. Maybe it was the look on her face, or the terrible humiliation, but he didn’t reply.
Later that afternoon, when the boys had their ‘thinking’ classes, arithmetic among others, Kira took out her feelings on the archery range, practising with her throwing knives and crossbow. Edouard had beaten her fairly, claiming champion of the class, and she had gone over the bout in her mind, like her father had told her to, picking up on her own mistakes and those of her opponent.
Edouard had won fairly, she’d lost concentration for one crucial moment, and he’d taken advantage, just like any of them were trained to do.
What was really fuelling her irritation was that the Order had forbidden any woman from learning any form of reading, writing or arithmetic, and she’d always been jealous of this. She’d even tried begging her grandfather to teach her a little, but he’d refused. Kira had been angry with him for weeks after that, but discovered she missed his stories more than she thought she ever could, so had made it up with him.
When the light had faded so that she could barely see the target, let alone hit it, she packed up her things and begun to make her way back to the student quarters.
If she hadn’t been so engrossed in her melancholy thoughts, she might’ve noticed the sound of footsteps behind her, or the shadows amongst the perfectly shaped trees.
Just as she rounded a bend, Ethan stepped out from behind a curiously shaped hedge.
“Lovely evening for a stroll, Kira.” He said, for all the world seeming like he meant it.
“What is it you want, rat face?” she replied, glaring at him, hands ready to grab her knives.
“Just a friendly little chat, is all.” Said he, apparently fascinated by his fingernails. “Quite a few neat tricks you pulled off this afternoon.”
“Are you talking to me for a reason?” He continued, ignoring the question.
“Old Teakin seems to like you a fair bit, wouldn’t you say? His star pupil, isn’t that right? With all your chivalrous ways, and such good skills.” Now Ethan was staring straight into her eyes, contempt clear on his face.
Attempting to control her anger, Kira’s eyes narrowed and she folded her arms. She knew why he had cornered her now, he didn’t like being second best.
“Well you see, my dear classmate, the rest of us don’t like being shown up. Especially by a girl!”
Suddenly, several pairs of hands grabbed her from behind and pinned her arms and legs down. After a few moments of struggle, in which Kira managed to land a few punches and kicks, the boys had her face down on the ground, their knees pressed into her back. She couldn’t move.
One of the boys ripped the lar-ryn off her head, and used her hair to pull her head up so she could see Ethan’s very expensive boots.
“Oh, and we’ll be taking these.” With a look from Ethan, one of the boys slid his hands down her thighs, chuckling at the way Kira tensed, then took her precious knives from their sheaths and handed them to Ethan, who spun them in his hands.
“Beautiful, just beautiful.” Ethan crouched so Kira could see a little more of his face. “I hope you’ve learnt your lesson, dear Kira.” He moved his face closer to hers, and whispered so even she could barely hear him.
“A fighting ring is no place for a girl. If you knew what was good for you, you’d leave.”
Kira could hardly breath, the world was going black around the edges, and the voices of the boys seemed far away. All of a sudden, there was yelps from above her, and all the weight was lifted. She felt separate from her body, an odd, tickling sensation running along her skin. She stood up, staring at the boys. Some were from her class but most were older students, and each and every one of them was looking at her with a strange expression on his face, something a little like fear, for what they saw was something they would never have even in their nightmares.
Kira’s body was a huge pillar of flame. It was as if she were a bonfire, and her brown eyes glowing embers at the heart of the blaze. In a voice that echoed with power, she demanded her knives back.
Ethan was the first to lose his nerve. Dropping Kira’s knives, he fled, screaming something about ‘mother’, and the others weren’t far behind him.
Kira’s flame died, but her skin still glowed and her eyes flashed with tiny lightning. She picked up her knives and continued down the path to go back to her room. Once there, she pulled all her old things out of her trunk and packed her saddlebags, found her bedroll and left her room, forgetting to lock the door behind her, moving about as if in a trance. She felt an odd restlessness, as if she needed to be somewhere, but couldn’t remember where or why.
She snuck into the kitchen and filled a spare bag with apples, pastries, sausages and a bottle of cider.
It took her two trips to take all her things down to the stables, where she saddled Amaris and piled on all her gear before mounting and riding Amaris out the gate behind the stables.
“Come on, we’re leaving.” She whispered to her loyal mare.
All the boys at the school had their reasons for wanting to become trained fighters. Ethan was sent there by his father, who wanted him to be a knight of the realm, others wanted to be bodyguards for the honourable members of the Order, and some had dreams of becoming famous war heroes that would one day save Aiganthea from some invincible enemy.
Kira Seraphine was training for own reason. Revenge, for she knew that the fire that had destroyed her home had been intentionally lit, and her parents and grandfather trapped inside to burn to death.

Air…

Rayanth picked his way between the huge trees, the canopy hidden in shadow, his sword naked in his hand. One of the other men started and spun around, peering into the gloom. It didn’t need to be said, but the stories of an ancient race of cannibalistic people that attacked any who entered their forest territory, were fresh on their minds.
If it weren’t for the promise of much wealth and a chance to become famous, they would have turned back days ago, when they had first felt the pricklings of being watched.
“… I tell you, I didn’t lose your arrows, they were there, and then they weren’t!”
Rayanth hushed the whispered argument and went back to his musings of what he would do with his share of the gold.
Without so much as a sound, a figure dropped out of the trees ahead of the mismatched group. It was tall and slender, with extremely fair skin and its black as night hair was braided and weaved about its head. It was dressed in an assortment of leathers that left no doubt on any of the men’s minds that this was a wild girl.
Rayanth heard someone pull an arrow from his quiver, just as the strange girl did the same, aiming for Rayanth’s heart.
“State your business,” she said in her strange accent, “and I shall decide whether or not you pass.” Some of the men chuckled at this. Who was this girl to act as though she had some authority over them? They chuckled until she turned her eyes their way. Her eyes were so dark as no reflection ever seemed to have existed there. No sunlight, nor firelight, was ever seen in these eyes. They were bottomless, and at the same time the men did not want to look into those eyes, they felt themselves being drawn in, in to that milky darkness.
“State your business.” The girl said again, pulling her bowstring tighter.
“And what if we don’t, little missy?” a young, bald man said, nudging his friend.
Before he could think, an arrow landed, quivering, next to his toe, so close, it had taken a bit of his boot with it. Already the girl had another arrow on her bow, aiming for Rayanth’s heart, who had barely seen the first one loosed. He looked carefully at the girl until he realised what it was about her features that was so strange. Her ears were pointed. The very top of her ears didn’t curve like a normal persons, they kept going till they came to a point, and one of the ears was pierced, with little rings going almost all the way along the cartilage, while the other ear had only one piercing, with a beautiful blue-green feather hanging down to her shoulder.
“Next time, I wont miss,” then in a more commanding tone, “What is your business in Ciannait forest?”
“Our business is our own,” Rayanth said, risking a bow.
With one sweep of her dark eyes, she took in packs, ropes, swords, a pick, axes, empty sacks, and shovels.
“Very well then,” she told them, raising one eyebrow, and disappeared into the trees once more. What had the girl meant? Rayanth thought.
The atmosphere changed from then on. Nights around the campfire were sober and quiet, devoid of any amusing stories or friendly insults, and every single man was left to his own thoughts of whether he was wise to have taken up the offer of being a part of the expedition.
The group had been hired by a black trader, the kind who organised semi-legal import and export for those who could not do to have such records to their name.
For the next week they walked through the forest, seemingly getting nowhere, yet always moving forward. On the sixth quiet day since the brief appearance of the strange girl, the group were moving through trees that looked much the same as the rest, but in truth were slightly different. These trees had never seen humans, and were far older than the travellers could ever imagine, or believe.
The men were becoming uneasy, in the extreme silence of the immortal trees, there seemed a soft whispering, as though the leaves were having their own fascinating and private conversations.
Squinting, the youngest man of the group, actually not much more than a boy, he could just make out odd shapes ahead of the group. The others appeared not to have noticed, so he went back to his thoughts of the girls that would hear songs and stories about the amazing Ciannait Forest Expedition.
A moment later, Rayanth drew his sword and squinted into the gloom, the others following suit. All too soon they were staring at a wall of people, each and every one holding a drawn bow or raised spear aimed directly at the travellers.
The one directly in front, pale eyed and taller than Rayanth by at least two heads, stepped forward slightly.
“State your business” he said in the same strange accent as the girl, his almost colourless blue eyes unblinking.
As before, Rayanth bowed and replied, “Our business is our own”, although this time somewhat more polite. While their focus was on the man in front, other tall people had come out of the trees to circle the group, all staring with their pale eyes at the unwelcome strangers.
Rayanth looked closely at these odd people. Like the girl they had met a week before, each and every one of them had raven-black hair, pointed ears and fair skin. Unlike the girl, however, every pair of eyes was a washed out shade of blue, or even green or violet. Also, Rayanth decided, the girl’s skin had been so pale as to almost be transparent. They stood with grace and even the men, for there was both men and women standing around them, the grace was of a man who knew how to move so that even the shyest animal would not dart away at his presence.
“If you don’t state your reason for entering the heart of the forest,” the tall man continued, “You are standing where your graves shall be. Your bodies will feed the trees around us, until there is nothing left but a few scattered bones, and none shall know what has befallen you.”
One man, with dull brown hair and equally dull eyes, had no urgent wish to die, so spoke clearly to the man, before his courage failed him.
“Well, you see, milord,” he had always been good at seeking favour with people more powerful than he, “we be lookin’ for a fabled city. Please forgive us for not knowin’, and all. You see, we was told nobody and no one lived in this here forest , save for a few beasts and what not. We be real sorry for comin’ in on your forest like this.”
“Fools.” A violet eyed woman said, her voice like the whispering of a breeze through the leaves. “This forest is no more ours than it is the sky’s. We are merely guardians, descendants of an ancient people that you would call,”
“Enough.” Interrupted another. “They will come before Avinash, he will decide their fate.”
Realising they had no hope, Rayanth re-sheathed his sword, signalling the others to do the same. The group moved off through the trees, and Nakeisha watched them from her perch high above the ground. She listened to them crash away, her people making no noise at all, and wondered what decision Avinash would come to.
She hoped he would be kind to them, after all they had had no idea what they were getting into when they agreed to this pointless quest. She had followed them for most of their journey, listening, and it was her who had taken the arrows. They were so much better than her own, she couldn’t help it, and they would never know.
Sighing, Nakeisha swung off amongst the trees, following in the general direction that the others had gone. After a few moments she dropped onto a platform that had been built from the tree branches themselves, and entered the small hut in the centre.
Pushing aside the vines that hung from the top of what could only be called a doorway, Nakeisha bowed to the crouched figure in the corner.
“Sheas, Grandmother.” She said into the soft silence.
“Saehs, dear child.” Her grandmother replied. Nakeisha knelt by her grandmother, and watched her old hands move over her weaving, the baskets she had made herself hanging in various places on the twiggy walls. Even her quiver had been handmade by her grandmother and suited her perfectly.
“You are restless, child.” It wasn’t a question, and Nakeisha knew better than to avoid answering her.
“I am bored with the forest, with the trees, the beasts.” She looked down at her fingers, twining them together so that they began to look like her grandmother’s weavings. “Each breeze seems to promise something, sometimes…” The old woman didn’t press her grandchild, she knew Nakeisha would answer when she was ready.
“Sometimes I hear things on the wind, know where it has come from, or, or I just get a feeling from it, of happiness, or even a great tragedy.”
They sat there for some time, listening to the creaking of the weaving. When the light began to dim, the old woman set aside her weaving and took Nakeisha’s strong, calloused hands in her own wrinkled and rough ones.
“Child, it is time.” Instantly Nakeisha was paying attention. “Many years ago, a young woman came to us, she was long with child. She was seeking help from those who would have killed her and her unborn child. It was a time of great change in the world beyond this forest, and many people were killed for who they were and what they believed in. We took her in, and in time her son grew up and joined with a young girl, but they only ever had one child, and thus it continued, all sons until your birth.
“You are one of the few children born without tree-sense, but you have made up for it in other ways. You are different, not just because of your eyes, but because of who you are meant to be. I believe, dear one, it is time for you to leave us and discover what it is you are meant to do in the world, for your place is no longer here.”
Nakeisha thought she’d misheard the aging woman. Leave the Ciannait Forest? She knew no other world other than that of branches and vines, the cool green of the sun through the leaves, hunting amongst the old trees so large that several men couldn’t touch hands around them. Leave?
Even though she really didn’t want to leave the only home she’d known, and having no idea of what lay beyond the last trees, in the deepest part of her soul she knew her grandmother was right.
And so it was that dusk found her sitting in one of the last great trees of the forest, a week after talking with her grandmother, peering out at the sea of flat grass. The faint road, like a stream, wound its way past the forest, as if it was too scared to come so close.
Nakeisha hung her bow, quiver and pack on a branch by her head, and settled down to spend the night nestled amongst the boughs and leaves. Sometime after the sun set, she slipped into a dream.
The air was rushing past her ears, making muffled roaring and whistling noises. She could see a green pattern below her, little squares of green separated by lines of dark green or an occasional brown one. It looked like a colourful weaving of her grandmother’s making.
The dream appeared like a memory, she couldn’t have explained how, and she didn’t fully understand what it was she was seeing. Suddenly the noise amplified, and she could feel the cold air on her skin.
The tree shook under her, and the sky was torn apart by thunder and lightning. The dark clouds pressed down on the world, the wind roaring and pulling on the trees, and Nakeisha could hear the roots groaning. During a brief flash of light she could see that her hands were white-knuckled on the branch beside her.
The wind was bringing stinging tears to her eyes. Lightning struck a tiny tree near the road, the poor thing exploding into flames, and the accompanying thunder deafening her so she couldn’t even hear own screams.
She became deaf so suddenly that she didn’t notice at first, the memory of sound reverberating inside her skull. She felt as though her skin could no longer contain her. Tingles ran up and down her spine.
The silent, roaring wind continued to tug at the helpless trees, bending them like so many reeds in a breeze. There was nothing for Nakeisha to do but hang on to the tree for dear life, her night black hair flowing out behind her, pulled loose of its braiding.
She could feel the silent thunder rumble through the tree, she screamed as the tree jerked, shook and shuddered, falling prey to the ferocious wind. As the tree fell, everything slowed down, and Nakeisha leapt free of the thrashing branches, the wind catching her, and in that moment everything stilled, and she landed on the sloping fallen trunk of the tree to see the dark clouds disperse and the rising sun poke through the scattered, tattered remains of the nights events.
Somewhere a bird sang, slowly joined by others, and Nakeisha heard the beginning of a glorious dawn chorus, all the more beautiful for her moments of deafness.
Untangling her bow and quiver from the branches, her pack lost forever, she passed through the last line of trees onto to the grassy plain and headed for the road.
She looked back at her home, the huge expanse of green rising gently into the sky where a small mountain hid under its live green coat. A flock of brightly coloured birds burst into the azure sky, squawking loudly.
“Sheas, Ciannait.” Nakeisha whispered, her people always thought of the forest as a mother, not just an expanse of trees.
A breeze blew a few strands of her straight black hair across her eyes, and it seemed to her that it said “Saehs, my child”.
Nakeisha turned her back on the quiet trees, and set off to discover her destiny, following the subconscious tug to, unbeknown to her, the White City.