Windwalker: Forbidden Flight Page 8

  “Combat training,” he answered flatly.

  Kiva grinned. With two older brothers—one of whom was now a shadestalker—she’d had plenty of chances to hone her fighting skills. The thought of testing them against Jonah sent a thrill through her, which she quickly suppressed. “See you then,” she answered seriously.

  Kiva turned, walked to the edge of the wall, and began her descent back to the window of her room. Once in the safety of the sect living space, she lit the oil lamp on the wall and knelt beside the dinner tray she’d left behind. She ate voraciously. Given her appetite, the food tasted incredible.

  Full and satisfied, Kiva blew out the lamp, undressed, and lay down in her bedding. Less than an hour ago, she had been hundreds of feet in the sky, diving and swooping. Considering her excitement, sleep came faster than she’d have expected.

  THUNK.

  Kiva bolted up from her deep slumber, grasping for the dagger she no longer possessed. There was enough moonlight to see she was alone in the room, but her eyes were trained on the door. Slowly, she stood, cleared off the metal dinner tray, and held it in both hands.

  She crept forward toward the door and listened.

  It was completely silent, save for her breath.

  Kiva frowned. That someone would have the nerve to harass her here, in the middle of the night! She summoned her anger, banishing the fear that threatened to take over. She unlocked the door, and bracing it with her shoulder, gently opened it a crack to peek out.

  No one.

  She opened the door a bit wider and looked up and down the halls. They were completely empty, but there was something on her door. A ten inch steel spike had been driven into it, holding up a dried, flat lizard skin. Scratched into the skin was a single word:

  OUTCAST

  A shiver ran through Kiva’s body. She was unused to having enemies, and this place was home to the Sahra’s most lethal sect of assassins. The chances of someone breaking in from the outside were slim. She swallowed, and took one more look before yanking the long metal spike out with both hands. The skin fell to the floor and she picked it up; then went back inside, shut the door, and locked it. Fine. She thought. You want an enemy? she addressed the unknown vandal, You’ve got one. She took the skin and threw it out the window, watching as it caught the breeze drifted away.

  She decided to keep the spike, just in case whoever delivered it came back for another visit. She lay back in her bed, but this time sleep was a long time coming. Eventually Kiva drifted off, gripping the steel spike to her chest in her right hand.

  9

  The Harab Maneuver

  Kiva awoke to a knock at the door. She glanced up at the window and saw the sun had well risen. The knock came again, this time with a voice, “Kiva, it’s your father. Open up.”

  What’s in my hand? She looked down and found that she was still clutching the steel spike.

  “Coming.”

  She slipped it between the wall and the bedding and stood, hastily dressing herself.

  Kiva reached the door, unlocked, and opened it.

  “Hi Papa,” she said quietly.

  Her father stood before her for a brief moment, and she worried he might be angry with her. He then swept her up in his arms.

  “Oh Kivanya. Little moon,” he whispered.

  She hugged him back, and strangely felt as if she were the one comforting him. He eventually released her, and they both stepped inside, closing the door.

  “How are you doing?” he asked.

  “I’m fine,” she said, trying not to think about the skin stabbed into her door the night before.

  “Are you sure? I can have them bring you more food. You look thin,” he said, furrowing his brow and pinching at her arm.

  “Papa I’m fine,” she said, smiling more genuinely. “The only danger here is that I die of boredom.”

  “Good,” he said, and his expression became more serious. “What were you thinking?”

  “What? I—”

  “You could have been killed! Those cliffs…the kiraeen…and that angry mob! If your brother hadn’t been there—“

  “Then I would have defended myself!” she asserted, her blood growing hot.

  “That’s not how it looked,” he countered, frowning.

  “I was caught off guard! It wasn’t supposed to go like that.”

  “And how did you expect it to go? Did you think the windwalker sidi would simply appear and grant you membership in his sect? That he would change centuries of tradition, after being humiliated in front of everyone?”

  Her father’s words hit her like a clay brick. “He humiliated himself! It is not my fault the old qadim can’t see beyond his own bias. The sect needs new windwalkers. It is not my fault Jado would cut off his nose to spite his face.”

  “Listen—”

  “No you listen. You said it yourself, remember? ‘The channels themselves would not exist, had the first few drops not dared to flow where none had before.’”

  Her father pursed his lips together. He pushed a hand through his hair, looking away. “I did not mean for you—”

  “But I did,” she interrupted him again. “And here we are.”

  Her father sighed, and his expression changed from frustration to worry.

  Kiva relented, reminding herself that he was not the enemy. “This isn’t just about me anymore, Papa.”

  “I know,” he said, sounding even more troubled. “Your mother has told me some of what’s going on.”

  “And do you support us?”

  “Of course I support you! Both of you. But there are people out there—dangerous people—who do not. I worry for your safety, and for your mother’s.”

  Kiva reached out and put a hand on his. “We will be fine, Papa. Look at our family. Two powerful stonemelters, and a shadestalker. None would dream of harming us.” She again remembered the spike in her door, then banished the thought. “Plus, if we can get the council on our side, people will have to accept that things are changing.”

  After a brief pause, Kiva’s father smiled. “You are just like her, you know.”

  Even just a few days ago, Kiva would have taken offense at being compared to her strict, overbearing mother. But now, she felt a newfound sense of pride.

  “I may not be able to protect you at all times,” he continued, “but I can at least help you defend yourself.” He reached into his leather satchel and removed a bundle wrapped in cloth. “This is for you,” he said, handing it over.

  Kiva took the bundle and unwrapped it. Inside the faded purple cloth was a belt, festooned with ornate iron rings and rivets. At the center was a beautifully crafted khanjar sheath, and within it, an equally beautiful dagger hilt.

  Kiva’s eyes widened, and a smile spread across her face as she drew the dagger, admiring it. “It’s beautiful,” she said.

  “I had planned on giving it to you once you’d chosen your sect.”

  Kiva felt tears welling in her eyes. She sheathed the dagger and wrapped her arms around her father. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “You are welcome, little moon. Always.”

  A subtle knock came at the door, and he looked at her with regret.

  “That would be the sect keeper. I am out of time,” he said.

  “Can’t you stay a little longer?” she asked. “The days are so long.”

  “Mica had to pull many strings to get me up here at all. I don’t want to cause trouble between him and his sect.”

  Kiva nodded. Things were delicate enough without any additional complication. “Will you visit again? Before the trial?”

  Her father’s expression fell, and she instantly regretted bringing it up. There was a good chance they’d never see each other again afterward.

  “I will try,” he said, before sweeping her up in another great hug. “Goodbye, Kivanya.”

  There was another knock, which they both ignored.

  “Bye Papa,” she said, squeezing him tight.

  They parted,
and after one last fond look, he opened the door and stepped out. Kiva locked the door, walked to her bedding and collapsed onto it, clutching the gift her father had given her. She began to imagine a life without her parents, or her brothers, and the pain she felt was nearly unbearable. No, she steeled herself against it. I will not give up hope. Not yet.

  Kiva spent the rest of the afternoon going over the flight commands she’d learned the previous day, imagining herself soaring and diving as she pushed and pulled Zakai’s harness. When that got old, she once again sat cross-legged on her bed, hands upturned on her knees, and closed her eyes. At first there was only the darkness of her eyelids. She slowed her breathing, felt the beating of her heart, and found a rhythm. Lights began dancing on the backs of her eyelids, like a murmuration birds flying in a swaying, undulating flock. The light grew brighter, and Kiva felt the wind touch her skin. The light became blinding, and by instinct she averted her gaze. Looking aside, she realized the light was the sun.

  She was standing in the desert, in a place she did not recognize. She took in the vast expanse of sand and rock. Ominous dark clouds, as tall as the sky itself, were drifting toward her. It was a sight she had never seen before, and it brought with it a great foreboding. The thunderheads continued toward her at a speed she never imagined possible, until they blotted out the sun, casting her in shadow.

  Something cold landed lightly on the back of her neck. Kiva reached back and found it wet. She looked at her fingers, which were covered in a thin sheen of red liquid. Another fell, and another, and another, until the storm clouds were upon her, releasing a torrential downpour of blood-red rain from the sky. Great bouts of thunder shook the ground, and bright bolts of energy stabbed down at the desert sand. There was nothing nearby that might have worked as shelter, so Kiva covered her head, attempting to shield her face from the torrent. The water fell so heavily she was driven to her knees. It painfully pelted her back as she willed it to relent.

  After several long minutes, the hammering water abated. Kiva stood, wiping the red rain from her eyes and forehead. The thunder clouds had passed, but she was still beneath a vast blanket of cloud cover. The once sandy ground had become muddy, stained red from the powerful downpour.

  Two footprints materialized in the red mud several feet away, created by something unseen. Kiva tensed, reaching for her dagger. She found it at her waist, and took a guarding stance as whatever made the footprints took a step in her direction.

  It took another step, and then another. Suddenly it was sprinting toward her. Kiva screamed a battle cry as it approached, slicing her dagger where the invisible assailant should have been. She struck only air. Her lungs were robbed of breath as it passed through her, and a disquieting shiver ran through her body.

  She turned, gasping. A wave of hundreds, no, thousands of footprints sprinted away from her through the muddied sand.

  Rising up from the desert before them were the great natural stone walls of Madina Basin.

  I have to warn them!

  Kiva sheathed her dagger and ran after the unseen army, toward the basin. With each step, her feet sank deeper into the crimson mud, until she was fighting through viscous liquid up to her thighs. She watched helplessly as the invisible attackers sped away.

  No!

  From above came the familiar screech of a kiraeen. Following the sound, Kiva found its dark form, contrasting against the cloud cover.

  “Help me!” she shouted at the sky. “I have to warn them!”

  It screeched again, and dove toward her. In a matter of seconds, it was nearly upon her, but had not slowed its descent. She realized then that the kiraeen intended to kill her.

  Rooted to the spot in the thick mud, she did the only thing she knew how. She drew her dagger, preparing to fight, and likely die.

  At the last second, the kiraeen spread its wings, extending its talons toward her. Kiva braced herself as it crashed into her at full speed.

  Instead of pain, Kiva felt weightlessness. She opened her eyes and found herself back in her room, heart pounding rapidly in her chest. Taking several deep breaths, she attempted to calm herself, but even as her heart slowed to a normal pace, the sense of foreboding refused to depart. She had heard of mystics having visions, but she’d never experienced anything like it herself. It seemed so real.

  A shiver ran down her spine, and she stood. Moonlight streamed in through the round opening in the wall. Kiva gasped. The training! She quickly grabbed her things and once again slipped out the window. She climbed to the top of the walls and saw several figures standing at the center of the clearing where she had met Jonah.

  The moon was obscured by high clouds, casting everything in shadow. Kiva quietly crept forward to one of the stone formations surrounding the clearing. She watched a moment, and realized that none of the figures were moving, and many were strangely misshapen. She continued carefully forward, peering ahead, and understood that these were not people at all. They were training dummies, propped up and balanced on the stony ground.

  Walking toward one of them, Kiva breathed a laugh. She grasped the white cloth draped over it, and lifted.

  “You know—”

  Kiva jumped and spun at the voice from behind.

  She found Jonah looking at her with raised eyebrows. “Uzi might not appreciate you poking around beneath his robes.” He attempted to suppress a smile and failed.

  “Uzi? You named him?” she asked, smirking.

  Jonah shrugged.

  “Must you always sneak up on me like that?”

  “Not always,” he said. “Once you learn to sense with the wind as opposed to your eyes and ears, you will know I’m here without even turning around.”

  Windsense. Windwalkers were said to be so in tune with air currents, they could sense the contents of a room with their eyes closed.

  “Will you teach me?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Jonah said, “but not tonight. Tonight, we focus on attack. With what’s to come, we must be ready for anything.”

  “What’s to come?” Kiva asked. “You mentioned something about signs the other day. What did you mean?”

  Jonah’s jovial smile faded. “Are you familiar with the Hikaya Sharun?”

  “The fable of the sandshades?” Kiva recalled tales of the horrifying creatures that would rise up from the sand and cut your throat while you slept. Her older brothers loved to tell stories of them, tormenting her on nights they camped out in the desert.

  Kiva nodded. She shifted uncomfortably as the uneasy feeling from her vision returned.

  “The Sharun are real, and I believe they are returning.”

  Jonah adopted an uncharacteristically serious tone and began to recite,

  “The sands rose up and named us foe,

  The plains wept blood where nothing would grow,

  Upon dunes painted white, the Sharun take flight,

  Reaping death and despair, in the absence of light.”

  “But…those are just stories,” Kiva insisted half-heartedly.

  “Not stories,” he said seriously, “Warnings.”

  “How so?” Kiva asked.

  “Garra flowers,” he answered simply.

  “Garra flowers?” She furrowed her brow.

  “Have you ever heard of the Mujdab Plains?”

  Kiva thought for a moment. The name did sound familiar, but nothing came to mind. She shook her head.

  “They are said to be the sacred place where our ancestors first set foot on this world. They are also completely barren—bereft of life. I’ve flown over them hundreds of times, and never seen so much as a blade of grass…until now.”

  “Garra flowers?” Kiva reasoned.

  Jonah nodded. “By the thousands. Their crimson petals stain the once barren plains, as if it were weeping blood,” he finished poignantly.

  Kiva pursed her lips. “How do you know it’s connected? Couldn’t that just be coincidence?”

  “It could,” he conceded, “but there’s more. What do
you think it means: The sands rose up and named us foe?” he asked.

  Kiva thought for a moment, then took a guess. “Sandstorms?”

  “Precisely,” he answered. “Normally they only appear during the windy season, but I’ve encountered four in the past two moon-cycles, well into the withering.”

  “What about ‘dunes painted white’?” she asked. “What does that mean?”

  Jonah shook his head. “I’m not sure…”