Purple Locks

While reading, check the language guide at the bottom of the page for meanings of words in the Soni language!

         Purple locks, soft and straight, blew in the north-coming wind, cold with a glacier’s breath and mingled with the scent of pine from the dense forests below. Pale skin, tinted blue, was warm and smooth in the deep concentration of meditation. Frost-covered earth lay beneath the creature, her form unmoving, perfect in posture. Pregnant and radiant, the moon covered half the sky with its massive, silvery body while her brother, the sun, peaked curiously from the meeting place of two mountains, both of which were grey and white in the frosted, misty distance.
         Exhale. The creature exhaled. Her eyes opened suddenly and icy blue eyes peered across the depths of the valley below her cliff. A shadow swept across her face, her eyes darkening with tears, her face twisting into an expression of fear and anger. She jumped to her feet, her dark, leathery robes of many layers and lengths fluttering past her like autumn leaves on an autumn ground.
         A silver glint pierced the muted dullness of mist surrounding her as her slender form ran up and up, over large, black rocks revered as wise guardians of the mountainside (which she gratefully thanked with an inaudible murmur), along narrow slivers of rock bridging steep ditches and cracks, and up and down twisting staircases of stone. Eventually, she was surrounded by pines. Not just any pines--trees that were both ancient and intelligent. She slowed slightly, whispering a string of words in the presence of the trees' towering bodies.
         "I hail and honor you, Gods of Silence. Please grant me passage through your gathering place,” she breathed, bowing her head, daring not to look up at these seemingly eyeless beings. "Thank you."
         As she left the thick grove of trees, she picked up her speed, a soft sprinkling of snow now dusting the air. The girl’s breath slowly became heavy with exhaustion and, as if the fog of her breath were calling out to the void of clouds above her, a strong wind picked up, hindering her flight. She peered down momentarily at a polished, silver bracelet around her left wrist, obviously weighing possibilities in her mind. After deciding, she looked up, still hurrying along at a fast dash, and swung her left hand above her. The silver glinted once more and the merciless winds and heavy snows that had so quickly (and rudely) belched their way through the many mountains ceased, very abruptly. The girl lowered her arm and continued to run.
         “Please forgive me, Moni,” she whispered as she came to a small cave mouth in a cliffside wall. She tunneled her way in, dashing with expertise under jutting stalagtites and around mischievous stalagmites until she slithered out of the narrow tunnel. She found herself in a large, high-ceilinged cavern. A massive staircase clung to the far wall and after climbing it, the young woman exited the cavechamber through an arched doorway. Before her, upon a wide, lengthy ridge hugging the mountainside, a cluster of dome-shaped cottages huddled against the mountain wall. The girl dashed along the ledge, her heart pounding like a weathered drum, between two dome houses, and into a third dome behind the two. As she pushed the heavy stone slab that was the door closed behind her, the winds and snow roared into existence once again, the winds and storms now free from the Windwane’s mighty grip.
         “Nomi!” she cried, gasping with all her remaining strength for air, hurrying to her grandmother's side. The old woman sat on a small stol before the fireplace in the main room of the dome.
         “What!? What is it!?” she hollered, nearly falling off her small stool in suprise, her old, grey eyes wide and searching.
         “Nomi, I saw fire! Fire raining from the sky like enormous balls of snow!” the girl cried, cold sweat trickling down her bluish face. She gasped, still, for breath. “I saw the Kirokoni, Nomi!”
         “Calm dow--,” her grandmother began to say, in her usual calm, grandmotherly voice, but on hearing the word, the word most feared by the Soni people--Kirokoni--it sounded as if a mountain bird had squawked from within her throat. Her eyes widened even more, a tiny tear trickling down her blue and wrinkled chin.
         She suddenly grabbed her granddaughter with both hands on both shoulders and shook her violently for a moment, surprisingly firm for a woman of her years.
         “Do you swear by the free flying spirit of your mother that you saw the--the Kirokoni?” she cried.
         “Yes, Nomi! I swear it!”
         The girl had begun to cry now, her face wet with icy tears. Her grandmother heaved a heavy, stuttered sigh, the old woman's eyes still wide with fear, her motions stifled and mechanical. She rapidly rubbed her hands together now, concentrating as best she could. When she brought them apart, a green glow hugged both of her palms. She inhaled deeply and blew a long, whistly blow into the space between her hands. The glow unclung itself from her palms and gathered like green fireflies in the space between her hands, creating a small sphere of green light. She waddled as fast as her small form would let her behind a curtain into a back room. She returned with a bottle. She quickly deposited the light into the bottle, stoppered it with a small stone, wiped the tears from her granddaughter’s face with both thumbs, and thrust the bottle into her possession.
         “You know what to do, Uni!” she whispered. "May you travel safely!”
         Uni nodded and pocketed the bottle. Before she heaved the great stone slab open, she gulped and wiped the remaining tears from her face. Then, without looking back, Uni plunged into the heavy windsnow, her ears deaf to all sounds now but the frigid shrieks of the mountains.
         She quickly waved her left hand, the silver bracelet--the Windwane--around her wrist shining a brilliant, metallic hue in the greyness of the air. The snow and winds once again ceased, magickally suspended, as if they were nothing but distant memories, echoes of vengeful tantrums of gods now dead. She hurried, though small and wrapped in only the warmth of her multilayered attire, past the many-domed row. She came to a large stair, which she climbed, or rather glided up, as a moth would a wall.
         At the top, a large landing lay and beyond it, another stairway descended onto another, very similar ridge village. Uni’s breath reached out into the still air, now more frigid and cold than she had ever felt it, as she removed the bottle from her robes. She held it out in front of her, removed the stoppering stone, and closed her eyes.
         “Ancient spirits, dead gods of the mountains, hear my call and help me light the Warning Star, to protect the Soni from troubled times ahead,” slipped ancient syllables from her lips. A soft wind now blew, as if the air had heard her, the length of purple hair on her head dancing with the unique breaths of awakened spirits. They seemed to think and know, these winds, twirling about in all directions at once, creating a symphony of ancient echoes and cries from the depths of the mountain crevices. Finally, the bottle lifted from Uni's hands, gripped now by the wind spirits. Her eyes opened as she watched it fall and shatter onto the stone platform, its green shards melding with the icy pieces of hail and snow already accumulated. The light, free and green, slowly lifted into the air, high now above the valley between her mountain and the mountain next to it. She quickly backed against the mountain wall, lowering and shielding herself with the many hoods and folds of her robes.
         In a dazzling instant, a shimmering display, the once miniscule light burst into an emerald phenomenon that not only shook the dome houses of the dozens of Soni villages nestled throughout the mountain ranges, but instantly awakened the ancient guardian spirits of the mountains that had been in hibernation for so long.
         Uni already felt a change as the last sparks of the Warning Star fell and dissolved. The winds stopped, the echoes ceased, and all that remained was the cold, grey air, the green shards on the platform, and Uni. She stood and took a few steps forward, fearful in the silence. She bowed with respect and thanks and stood, dashing down the stairway.

         The mountains creaked in the early evening blizzards, their insides stirring, moving, awakening. The valleys were loud with their echoes and screeches and all who could, stayed indoors.
         Uni lay beside the fire, her cheeks wet with tears. She was warm now, clothed in her fur sleeping robe, the orange heat of the fire eating away at the ice in her cheeks. The Windwane was safe in its box in Uni's chamber. It was safest there and the farther from it Uni was, the better. The silver ring came to mind. Her mother had told her once to use the Windwane only when in dire need.
         "Every time you use its power, Uni, it becomes more attached to you," she heard her mother's voice in her head. "Over time, it will be stuck to you and you will never be able to get it off."
         Her mother told her that when she was very young. When she was older, her father had told her the entire truth. The Windwane was a legendary thing crafted by the Cave God, Uni, whom she was named after, centuries ago. The bracelet was crafted with a very rare and very dangerous kind of metal. This metal was used, in its raw form, by the ancient, primitive people to ward off storms. They wore necklaces made of it and hung the ore by the entrances to their homes. It was not dangerous in its ore form, however, when formed into metal, it became magnetic and baneful. Whenever one would use the power of the metal, they became more enthralled with it. Eventually, one would prize the metal over all else, even loved ones, and would become a wild demon.
         "It turns the heart to ice, the brain to worms," she recalled her father telling her. But the bracelet was hers, passed to her by her mother.
         Uni came back to reality, feeling the warmth once again. Her grandmother rocked quietly on her rocking stool, weaving two pieces of animal hide together.
         Uni let out a soft whimper.
         "There is no need to worry anymore, Uni," her grandmother whispered. "Listen."
         The old woman looked around her, putting a finger to her lips.
         "They are waking from their slumber. They will protect us from the fire."
         Uni remained silent. She believed not a word her grandmother spoke. She knew something was wrong. She felt it. She knew her grandmother felt the same way.
         "Nomi, do not deny your instincts," Uni whispered.
         Her grandmother stopped rocking.
         "They cannot save us, Nomi," Uni said, sitting up, wiping the tears from her face, still gazing into the flames. "They will be destroyed in the process. I saw their dead bodies on the mountain sides."
         "You are right, Uni," her grandmother spoke hoarsely.
         "What are we to do?" Uni asked, blinklessly gazing.
         The door suddenly opened and a figure covered entirely in furs and hides entered the small home. He quickly pushed the heavy stone shut and turned, pulling back his hood. His hair was a dark blue-purple with a few streaks of grey in its length. He had a heavy blue-purple beard, icy and wet with icicles, and blue-grey eyes that were teary from the cold. His pale-blue complexion was touched with red by the wind.
         "Moni!" Uni cried, hurrying to her father and wrapping her arms around him. "Where have you been?"
         "I was helping the old folk on the other side of the mountain," he spoke, his face now grinning at the sight of his daughter. "Those on the northern faces of the mountains live much harder lives. The North Wind is unforgiving and indifferent."
         "How is Hupi, Ban?" her grandmother asked, turning around to face the two.
         "She has a bad hiccup but I brought her some of your milksap," Ban replied, guiding Uni to the hearth and sitting with her. "The moment the old crow drank it, she said she felt ten times better!"
         "Good! Very good!"
         The woman continued knitting. Ban turned to his daughter then and whispered in her ear: "I am so grateful to see you are safe. The moment I heard the Warning Star, my heart jumped and I thought of you. The screeching mountains did not ease my worry."
         "Moni," Uni whispered and turned so they were face to face, their foreheads touching. "I lit the Warning Star."
         "I know," he replied softly, smiling. "Your grandmother told me she had been training you in the Old Teachings. I think it is best that you learn them. They are vital tools."
         "Thank you, Moni," Uni grinned. "I feared you would be angry."
         "Now, I must get some rest, Uni, if such a thing is possible with all this racket," Ban chuckled, kissing his daughter on the forehead and standing. As he turned to go through the curtain into the pantry where his bed was, he whispered back to Uni, his eyes twinkling with a cheerful calm: "Remember, we are safe now."
         Uni's grin quickly turned to a frown when her father had vanished into the next room. She looked at her grandmother, who was already gazing at her, her eyes wide and sympathetic.
         Uni stood and walked slowly forward, her head down. Her grandmother gently rubbed her arm as she passed and looked down sadly, placing her knitting on the fur carpets upon the floor and setting her gaze on the flames.
         Uni vanished behind a curtain into her small room. There was a window here and she could see the dark blueness of the outside through its clouded glass. The snow was higher after the blizzards all day and the mountains still screeched and creaked.
         Uni walked a few steps, plopped onto her bed, and curled up in her bed furs. "When will they awaken?" she spoke as she drifted off.
NOT FINISHED

Language Guide:

Nomi Grandmother

Nono Grandfather

Mia Mother

Moni Father

Ona Aunt

Oni Uncle

Sino Brother

Sina Sister

Ooni Cousin

Ina Niece

Ino Nephew

Nan Daughter

Non Son

Nonono Grandson

Nona Granddaughter

Kirokoni "Raining Fires of Destruction"