help her to her feet. The girl simply sat upon a log and felt her daydreams die.
***
The burial ground lay waiting. Trees reached out with jagged claws to scrape against the cliffs, creaking softly in the breeze. The branches whispered dreadful secrets in the dark, plucking at their shrouds of dying leaves.
A living creature broke the breathless quiet, reeling blindly through the dark. Grave markers* leered from the shadows as dry raven’s bones scattered emptily across the ground.
The burial grove of the summer village was a very special place, for it was here that Shadarii’s mother lay. The mother she had never known; who had never held her newborn baby girl.
The mother she had slain.
The marker stood just as she had left it. The grave tree mouldered in comfortable silence, covered in plates of cheerful orange fungus. Shadarii crammed herself against the rotten bark, bright tears staining the bark as the girl wept in torment.
The girl’s grief sent ripples chasing through the ïsha fields. Far above her, the forest seemed to take a breath of wonder. Something marvellous began to happen; rising from the stillness of the woods, a shining Ka began to fill the air with light.
Mama!
Shadarii shed tears in grief and joy, gasping as the loving spirit spilled around her face. The girl joined with her mother in an ecstasy of communion, drinking in the love that she had never known in waking life.
They had never needed words; the spirit had always been there whenever she was needed most. Shadarii’s soul soared on wings of adoration.
Oh Mama. Oh Mama I love you so…
Far off in the darkness, two shadows gazed down at their prey. The High Priestess stroked her hands together, her gaze locked upon Shadarii’s face.
“I want her. Raw - untrained! Did you ever see such power? We need only shape her mind and we shall finally have our weapon to rule the tribes.”
Kanoochi nodded slowly in agreement.
“The Dancers have rejected her. Her family will want her gone. I shall ask Nochorku-Zha.”
“Don’t be a fool! Have you learned nothing? Go to the power in the family. Zhukora runs the lodge of Nochorku-Zha. T’is her we must convince.”
Kanoochi’s ears flattened.
“Zhukora will be difficult to bend to our will…”
“Oh I think not. You see, we have something that Zhukora needs. We need only awaken her desire for what we have to offer.” The High Priestess bared her yellow fangs. “Oh yes, she will grasp the chance to please us. We shall show her how to become Zhukora-Zha.”
Down in the lonely glade, Shadarii opened out her arms. The spirit flowed around her, lighting up the night with song as the Priests sheathed their claws and faded back into the darkness.
Notes:
1) Kashran measurements are based on the handiest available marks. Measurements are standardised as the “tail” (circa 3 feet in length) and the “span” (1 wingspan, or circa 7 feet). The typical hunting spear is 3 tails long (the longer shafted weapons having greater range and striking power).
2) Remnants of a dead creature can be haunted by the creature’s Ka. Kashra therefore make no use of leather, skin or bone for fear of offending the previous owner. Sudden house fires, sickness or unlucky hunts are serious threats well within the capabilities of a malicious Ka.
3) Jiteng: A formalised team sport designed to be the outlet for competition and aggressive energies.
*) Kashran dead are cremated, thus paying the Fire spirit for its aid to Mother Rain. The remaining ashes are carefully buried.
Chapter Three
Zhukora hung poised in the air like a malevolent black wasp, her tail swirling as she shifted her grip on her catching staff. Beside and below her, skull-faced helmets glittered in the ïsha-light as Zhukora’s players quivered at their leash.
Zhukora’s team arrayed themselves with geometrical precision. There were twelve players, one for each month of the Kashran year. Slatted wooden armour sheathed the
***
The burial ground lay waiting. Trees reached out with jagged claws to scrape against the cliffs, creaking softly in the breeze. The branches whispered dreadful secrets in the dark, plucking at their shrouds of dying leaves.
A living creature broke the breathless quiet, reeling blindly through the dark. Grave markers* leered from the shadows as dry raven’s bones scattered emptily across the ground.
The burial grove of the summer village was a very special place, for it was here that Shadarii’s mother lay. The mother she had never known; who had never held her newborn baby girl.
The mother she had slain.
The marker stood just as she had left it. The grave tree mouldered in comfortable silence, covered in plates of cheerful orange fungus. Shadarii crammed herself against the rotten bark, bright tears staining the bark as the girl wept in torment.
The girl’s grief sent ripples chasing through the ïsha fields. Far above her, the forest seemed to take a breath of wonder. Something marvellous began to happen; rising from the stillness of the woods, a shining Ka began to fill the air with light.
Mama!
Shadarii shed tears in grief and joy, gasping as the loving spirit spilled around her face. The girl joined with her mother in an ecstasy of communion, drinking in the love that she had never known in waking life.
They had never needed words; the spirit had always been there whenever she was needed most. Shadarii’s soul soared on wings of adoration.
Oh Mama. Oh Mama I love you so…
Far off in the darkness, two shadows gazed down at their prey. The High Priestess stroked her hands together, her gaze locked upon Shadarii’s face.
“I want her. Raw - untrained! Did you ever see such power? We need only shape her mind and we shall finally have our weapon to rule the tribes.”
Kanoochi nodded slowly in agreement.
“The Dancers have rejected her. Her family will want her gone. I shall ask Nochorku-Zha.”
“Don’t be a fool! Have you learned nothing? Go to the power in the family. Zhukora runs the lodge of Nochorku-Zha. T’is her we must convince.”
Kanoochi’s ears flattened.
“Zhukora will be difficult to bend to our will…”
“Oh I think not. You see, we have something that Zhukora needs. We need only awaken her desire for what we have to offer.” The High Priestess bared her yellow fangs. “Oh yes, she will grasp the chance to please us. We shall show her how to become Zhukora-Zha.”
Down in the lonely glade, Shadarii opened out her arms. The spirit flowed around her, lighting up the night with song as the Priests sheathed their claws and faded back into the darkness.
Notes:
1) Kashran measurements are based on the handiest available marks. Measurements are standardised as the “tail” (circa 3 feet in length) and the “span” (1 wingspan, or circa 7 feet). The typical hunting spear is 3 tails long (the longer shafted weapons having greater range and striking power).
2) Remnants of a dead creature can be haunted by the creature’s Ka. Kashra therefore make no use of leather, skin or bone for fear of offending the previous owner. Sudden house fires, sickness or unlucky hunts are serious threats well within the capabilities of a malicious Ka.
3) Jiteng: A formalised team sport designed to be the outlet for competition and aggressive energies.
*) Kashran dead are cremated, thus paying the Fire spirit for its aid to Mother Rain. The remaining ashes are carefully buried.
Chapter Three
Zhukora hung poised in the air like a malevolent black wasp, her tail swirling as she shifted her grip on her catching staff. Beside and below her, skull-faced helmets glittered in the ïsha-light as Zhukora’s players quivered at their leash.
Zhukora’s team arrayed themselves with geometrical precision. There were twelve players, one for each month of the Kashran year. Slatted wooden armour sheathed the
Similar Books
