Windwalker: Forbidden Flight Page 15

  A wave of ruffled feathers ran over Noor’s body.

  What? Kiva asked.

  That way is cursed.

  Cursed? What do you mean?

  The wind bites, the ground bears no prey, and blood pours from the land.

  Kiva paused, considering. I think then, that is exactly where we must go.

  Noor flicked her tail in agitation, but understood that Kiva saw a connection between that place and the Sharun—ancient enemy of both Sahra’ and kiraeen.

  Fine, Noor agreed, and they once again lifted off, leaving the oasis behind.

  They soared southward, farther than Kiva had ever traveled. She soon began to understand Noor’s misgivings. The air temperature was dropping steadily. Kiva wrapped her head tightly in her black scarf, and fished her goggles out from a small pouch at her waist.

  Down below, the waves of desert sand appeared to have broken upon red stone hardpan, riddled with cracks and debris. Swirling funnels of wind threw red dust into the air, creating an ominous reddish-brown haze.

  Satisfied? Noor asked, hoping Kiva would turn back.

  Not yet.

  Noor pumped her wings, driving them forward. Down below, Kiva spotted clumps of blood-red garra flowers through the occasional gaps in the haze. They must grow more easily at colder temperatures, she thought. Her eyes were drawn by a sudden great gust of wind, approaching from her left. Noor changed course to meet it head on, and was able to hover in place without beating her wings as the cool air rushed under them.

  Kiva ducked her head, pressing her body flat against Noor’s. Once the gust had blown past, Noor tipped her wings, turning them southward, and Kiva looked down at the ground in disbelief. The wind had carried away the obfuscating haze of red dust, revealing a cracked and broken landscape. The garra flowers growing near the openings in the ground did indeed look like blood pouring from a wound. Among them, stretching off into the distance in great, immeasurable number, were twisted, black spires of the Sharun.

  Distant thunder rumbled across the sky, punctuating the growing dread in her heart.

  Those were not here last I came to this cursed place, Noor thought upon feeling Kiva’s distress.

  Tall, dark thunderheads began rapidly coalescing off toward the southern horizon, and another gust of icy wind blew past. Small flashes of lightning lit the foreboding clouds, and Kiva realized they were growing larger.

  They’re moving this way, Kiva thought with alarm.

  I suggest we turn back, Noor responded, but Kiva could only stare at the swirling mass of darkness, gaining in size and strength.

  She furrowed her brow. “Those aren’t storm clouds,” she said with rising fear. “Khamsim,” she whispered under her breath. “Sandstorm!”

  It rushed toward them at a speed that should have been impossible for something so large.

  Noor abruptly changed course, instinctively bolting for the safety of her den.

  No! Kiva thought desperately, We have to warn the basin!

  You mean those cowards who sentenced you to exile?

  They’re not all bad, she admitted. My family…

  Kiva could sense Noor’s displeasure, yet she begrudgingly altered their heading, toward the basin. The kiraeen’s wings pumped mechanically, and Kiva’s braids trailed behind her as they sped high over the cracked and broken desert floor.

  “There,” Kiva said, pointing to a nearby thermal. The thick column of wavy, semi-transparent air climbed skyward. Noor adjusted the angle of her rear pinions and they hit it moments later, climbing as they flew.

  A glance back revealed the massive storm, towering up to unimaginable heights. It had gotten much closer, or much larger. Either option was bad. It was normally an hour’s flight to the basin, but if they continued at this speed they’d reach it in half the time—perhaps with enough of a head start to raise the alarm.

  Kiva held her body close to Noor’s in order to maintain as low a profile as possible. After another few minutes, she looked back and found they had put some distance between themselves and the storm-front.

  We’re doing it! Kiva thought. The storm is falling behind.

  And once we’re there? Noor asked. The basin walls will not keep this storm out.

  Kiva didn’t answer. The ancient sandshields lining the tops of the basin walls hadn’t been raised in her lifetime, or her parents’, for that matter. They’d never had the need. The largest storm Kiva had seen was easily dwarfed by the basin walls. This was something else entirely. Storms like this one were the reason they built the sandshields in the first place; back in the darktime, when Sharun attacks were commonplace.

  Quickly, Kiva urged, and Noor pressed on.

  Soon the walls of Madina Basin came into view; small at first, yet growing larger as they approached. No kiraeen flew over the basin, where they might have seen the storm and given warning. They were all on the hunt to the northeast.

  We had no idea how far along the Sharun had come. Al’ama! We should have been ready! Kiva cursed Jado a thousand times as they descended into the basin. Noor spread her wings, slowing their speed and spiraling down around the inside walls.

  Kiva sat up and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Khamsim!” she shouted with all her strength. “Khamsim! A sandstorm approaches! Raise the sandshields!” she shouted, attempting to raise the alarm. “Khamsim!”

  At first those Sahra’ going about their day looked up in confusion. Sandstorms had never been a threat to them inside the basin. Khamsim were the storms of legend, not something they would ever have to worry about.

  As Noor descended closer to the basin floor, mothers were corralling their children into their rocky abodes.

  Hiding won’t be enough to save them, Noor thought.

  I know! Let me think!

  The council could force action, but there was no time to convince them, wherever they were.

  The bell! Kiva pointed to a great concave niche in the western wall. Within it hung a massive iron bell that had not been rung in a hundred years. Kiva had considered climbing to it many times, but never had the chance. Now she would not need to climb at all.

  Noor beat her wings, carrying them up to the stony indentation. She perched on the opening, and Kiva slipped off her, onto the narrow surface. Before her was the bell, nearly twice as tall as she was. Kiva placed her hands on the cool iron, and pushed. The bell swung a few inches, and Kiva used it to build momentum. The clapper hit the inside of the bell, sending powerful vibrations through it. Soon it was ringing at full, deafening volume. Kiva leapt back onto Noor, who dropped from the edge back down into the basin.

  I think you have their attention, Noor said as the bell clanged and clonged behind them.

  “Khamsim! Sandstorm!” Kiva continued shouting. “Raise the sandshields!”

  Now everyone in the basin was scrambling, rushing this way and that. The great steel shields near the top of the basin remained unmoving.

  Kiva cursed, instructing Noor to fly up to the square stone opening near the base of one shield on the western wall. The shields themselves were hundreds of feet tall, ending where the tops of the basin walls did. The openings below them were large enough for the kiraeen to fit inside—all the better for windwalkers to operate them. They landed in the opening, and Kiva slid over Noor’s side, running to the tall, rusted iron wheel connected to the far wall. She leapt onto it, hanging from one side and yanking downward.

  “It wont budge!” she cried out in frustration.

  Let me try.

  Noor came forward, gripping the wall above it with the front talons atop her wings, and stepping with one of her rear talons into a spoke of the wheel. The metal squealed loudly as the wheel came loose, and Noor leapt back.

  Thank you, Kiva thought as she rushed forward and wrenched the wheel around. Behind the wall came the sounds of great counterweights shifting. These were followed by the scraping of the massive, curved shield, rising up past the top of the western wall.

  The sandshield clunked i
nto place, casting a tall shadow into the basin. Kiva immediately leapt back onto Noor, and they swept out from the shield’s control room, and onto the next. There were twelve shields all together, lining the southwestern walls. There was no way they could get them all, but Kiva was determined to try.

  The second wheel came loose without her kiraeen’s help, and Kiva spun it as quickly as she could before leaping back onto Noor. This time when they launched out of the opening, Kiva could see two of the other shields slowly rising up from their cradles, extending the height of the walls by hundreds of feet. Someone below had heeded her warning.

  They wheeled around to the next one, but as they did, the sky went ominously dark. Kiva looked up from Noor’s back to see that the sun had become a blood red circle, obscured by the vanguard of the towering sandstorm. The persistent sound of rushing sand and howling wind began to fill the basin, growing louder by the second.

  Upon dunes painted white, the Sharun take flight,

  Reaping death and despair, in the absence of light.

  Noor’s thought was ominous and cold, It’s here.

  16

  The Storm

  Quickly! The next shield! Kiva urged. Noor lunged out with Kiva clinging to her back. Her headscarf was blown back as they sped into the next shield’s opening. Kiva tugged on the wheel, but it wouldn’t budge. Noor leapt forward as she had before, and pried it loose, allowing Kiva to finish the job.

  The wind had grown to a cacophonous howling, punctuated by deafening bouts of thunder.

  One more, Kiva thought desperately. We have to raise another!

  Noor didn’t move. The opening out to the basin was filled with whipping wind and swirling sand.

  A deep boom resonated through the basin, shaking the stone beneath Kiva’s feet as the bulk of the storm crashed into the walls.

  The sun was now completely blotted out, casting the basin into darkness. The occasional flash of lightning lit the roiling sand clouds above, like the glowing heartbeat of a colossal, malignant shade. Kiva pulled her headscarf tight, covering her nose, mouth and hair as the storm churned, pelting her entire body with stinging sand. The wind was deafening, blowing into the control room with such force that Kiva felt her feet sliding across the stone. She hooked an arm around the wheel and held tight.

  Even with goggles on, it was impossible to see. She knew Noor was nearby, but that was all. Both of them were crouched down, heads covered, for what felt like hours as the storm relentlessly battered Madina Basin. Kiva could only hope her forewarning had been enough to save some of the lives below.

  For several long minutes, the winds continued to howl and the sand flew. Kiva began to wonder if it were possible that the storm had paused its advance over the basin, remaining there indefinitely, when finally the winds began to die down.

  Cautiously removing her arm from over her head, she looked out to verify what she’d hoped to be true—the storm had passed.

  Kiva slowly stood, and the sand that had accumulated on her head, shoulders, and back fell to the floor. Noor stood nearby, ruffling her feathers in an attempt to rid herself of the pervasive grains of sand. Outside, the red tinged sunlight slowly transitioned to orange, then back to the bright yellow of an average afternoon.

  Kiva strode across the floor—which was covered in a few inches of sand—to the large square opening of the sandshield control room. Sand covered nearly everything below. It had piled up in great drifts against the far walls, blocking the entrances to more than a few abodes. Merchant carts had been smashed, broken and battered, the goods they once contained strewn haphazardly across the basin.

  No bodies, Kiva thought with relief.

  None unburied by sands, Noor observed.

  Not helpful, Kiva glared at the great kiraeen perched beside her.

  Down below, men and women tentatively opened the boards covering their homes and peered out with wide eyes. The basin was in disarray. It would take weeks to remove all the sand. Many of the merchants will have lost their livelihood.

  If not for you, they would have lost their lives as well, Noor thought, preening her sandy feathers.

  Kiva was developing a growing appreciation for Noor’s straightforward nature. The kiraeen would never feel sorry for her, or allow her to feel sorry for herself, for that matter. Noor was a warrior from birth to death, and she would expect nothing less from Kiva.

  Someone below was struggling to get their door open. “We should go down and—”

  The alarm came from Noor like a bolt of lightning, and Kiva ducked. Noor’s long neck swept over her head. Noor’s beak snapped shut with a clack, and Kiva was showered in more sand. Kiva spun, curving khanjar dagger in hand.

  She watched in disbelief as tendrils of sand swirled up from the floor of the control room. They coalesced, then settled into the shape of an armored warrior. In its left hand was a large round shield. In its right, a tall spear with a long spike at one end. It wore a mask shaped like the face of a wild dog, framed by two horns, curving down along the jawline. Two hollow sockets stared out from where its eyes should have been. They were darker than night, and pulsing with unsettling awareness.

  Sharun. Kiva and Noor shared the thought simultaneously.

  Noor lowered her body, preparing to strike, but Kiva moved first. Leaping forward, she extended her leg and made contact with the sharun’s shield. It staggered back, then regained its balance and stabbed at her with its spear. Kiva turned sideways, narrowly avoiding the long spike. She struck back, but the sharun was fast. It brought its shield up in time to block the attack, then again stabbed its spear toward her. Kiva evaded in the other direction, rolling to the outside of its spear arm. The advantageous position hadn’t come without cost. The sharpened spike split the skin on her shoulder. Kiva ignored the pain and slashed with her dagger as she rotated her body. The blade made contact, severing the sharun’s spear arm. Both arm and spear fell to the floor, disintegrating back into sand on impact.

  The sharun slammed its shield into Kiva, knocking her back. Sand was traveling up along its legs and torso.

  It’s regenerating, Noor pointed out.

  I can see that!

  Kiva grit her teeth and launched another attack. She feinted high, then swiped low. Her curved dagger hooked below the shield, severing one of the sharun’s feet off at the ankle. It lost its balance, falling onto its back. Kiva leapt on top of it, stabbing downward. Her blade sank into its chest, but the cold-eyed creature gave no reaction.

  The arm! Noor warned.

  A stump with a long spike on the end stabbed at her. Kiva rolled off, avoiding it, and quickly got to her feet. The sharun’s foot was regenerating, and it was attempting to rise.

  “No you don’t!” she growled. Kiva planted a kick to the back of its head, sending it forward onto its face. She leapt onto its back, wrapped one arm around the head, and drew her blade across its neck.

  Kiva fell back, holding the head, which disintegrated in her arms. The body did the same, and all that remained were two shadowy, swirling crystals where its eyes had been. Sand began to swirl into the air around them.

  Crush them! Noor commanded.

  Kiva raised her dagger with both hands and brought the pommel crashing into one of the crystals, shattering it. She quickly did the same to the other, and the floating grains fell lifelessly to the floor.

  More rise…below, Noor thought, peering out of the opening. Kiva rushed over and joined her. A man was fighting one of the same sand creatures with nothing more than a block of wood. A scream pierced the air as someone else took a spear through to the shoulder.

  There must be at least fifty of them, Kiva worried.

  She leapt onto Noor’s back and they dropped from the high ledge of the sandshield control room.

  There, Kiva directed Noor toward a man desperately fighting for his life. As they grew close, Kiva shifted her weight back, and Noor tilted her own body. She spread her wings and crashed into the sharun with her rear talons, then leveled ou
t and began climbing. The sharun exploded into a cloud of sand.

  “Destroy the eyes!” Kiva shouted as they swooped back up. “They will return if you don’t destroy the eyes!”

  Where are the safekeepers? Kiva thought in frustration. The sect dedicated to protecting the basin had many capable warriors, but they were nowhere in sight. She directed Noor toward their sect stronghold, and found the entrance buried in sand and debris.

  We have to clear it away.

  Noor quickly descended to the blocked entrance, and Kiva dismounted. Together they pushed away the sand, stone, and pieces of broken carts, until half the door was visible.

  Noor screeched, and Kiva turned to see another sharun stabbing toward her kiraeen. Noor wrapped her long tail around the spear and yanked it free. In a fury, the skyhunter snapped its shield away, then completely flattened the sharun with one of her powerful legs. Sand exploded into the air. Kiva quickly found the eyes and crushed them.