The fire of your heart. The rhythm of your breath.
She sat in the center of a ring of flames. There was water at her side; the scorching air burned it out of her as quickly as she drank it down. Her body grew hollow and light; the pulse of the drums resonated in her head and down her bones until she was nothing but the flames and the beat.
The fire of your heart. The rhythm of your breath.
The words formed a counterpoint to the measured cadences of drummed prayer. The fire of her heart. The rhythm of her breath. These were the keys she sought. They would lead her to what she lacked. They would lead her to the Other, to a name and an otherform. The keys were in her; she must go out and find them.
The fires blazed higher. The drums intensified. They built up in a crescendo that made her body tense, preparing—
A gap appeared in the ring of flames.
She rose and sprinted into the empty blackness of night.
***
Autumn had come early to the isles, bringing chill winds and rain. She didn’t feel them; the flames were still with her, burning inside her skin, driving her on. For the first night she ran blind, finding her footing by instinct, or by the grace of Ika and Ise. Trees and sharp boulders flashed by, unseen, but sensed through her sweat-covered skin. There was not even a moon or starlight to guide her. Sometimes she did not know if her eyes were open or shut.
But the perfect blackness could not last; eventually it began to lighten to grey, and her surroundings took on more definite form. Exhaustion caught up with her then. When dawn came in full, she found shelter under the low branches of a tree, and there she slept for several hours.
She awoke feeling more real than she had since the ceremony began. The flame was still inside her, and so was the beat, but they were muted. She felt her body, now, in all of its damp stiffness. A light rain had begun to fall, and for a short while she merely sat, cross-legged on the leaves, watching it come down. There was a rhythm there, too. The fire of her heart; the rhythm of her breath. She had to find them, in order for the Other to find her, in order to become fully Kagi. She could sit under this tree if she chose, or she could move onward, seeking her answers in the wild lands of the isles.
She chose to move.
***
Her mind began to wander. One part of it remained on the ground ahead, searching for the smoothest path, or whichever direction drew her the most. Another part sank inward, living in the beat of her pounding feet, the counterpoint of her breath and her heart. The rest was free to study the world around her.
The animal life drew her attention. It called to mind her childhood lessons. She watched it all, from the dragonfly hovering ahead, to the salmon leaping in a stream to her left, to the squirrel that darted away at her approach but paused on a tree branch to observe her progress. Those were the first three to catch her eye, and she considered them a good omen. One creature of the sky, one of the water, and one of the earth. A proper balance. None of the three drew her gaze, though, and she did not try to focus on any of them. She must not consciously reach for anything, except the fire and the rhythm. Those who reached could end up with nothing.
She stopped at a stream to drink the icy water and stayed there for some time, looking at the creatures which lived beneath the surface. Stubborn salmon, that would swim upstream against the fast current. Bottom-dwelling fangfish, whose greatest virtue lay in subtlety and surprise attacks. Limpets, clinging to the rock. She almost dismissed them as insignificant, but caution stopped her. Sometimes people came back from their quests with nothing. Was it arrogance that made them fail? She didn’t know, but she couldn’t take the chance. The limpets, then: good at defense, with their hard shells, tenacious grips, and coloring that blended with their surroundings. She could learn from the limpets. She could learn from everything.
Then she sat with her back to a tree and let the array of land animals pass by. Mountain deer, stocky and tough, ever wary of the world around them. She knew some people like that, but did not think she was one of them. Rock-wolves, feeding on the deer; that might be closer to the truth. But she must not reach for anything; the Other would come to her, not the other way around. She moved only because she felt like it, not because it was necessary. What else was there to observe? The squirrels she had seen before, cocky and playful. Granite snakes; they reminded her of the fangfish in the river. Right before she rose she spotted a lynx, wary of her presence but confident in his own speed and agility. Maybe that would be right.
She dismissed the thought from her mind and ran on.
As the afternoon ripened she climbed to the top of a rocky crag and sat there, letting the wind whip her skin numb, watching the sky. Hawks and eagles, proud kings of the air. Vultures, disliked but necessary all the same. Endless varieties of insect, some feeding on plants, others on blood. Very different creatures, those, with different lessons to teach. Night descended and she remained where she was, watching the population change; day-flying birds departed to be replaced by those of the night. Bats, seeing with more senses than sight. Owls both large and small, silent as ghosts on the wind, but often deadly. She climbed down at last, cold and stiff, to find herself shelter for the night.
A full day gone, with nothing to show for it. She swallowed her fear. Maybe fear was what made people fail. But she wouldn’t be one of them; she wouldn’t let herself count the time. She just hadn’t found the right keys yet—the fire of her heart and the rhythm of her breath. She needed to focus on that, and not look for the Other. He would come when she was ready.
So she would make herself ready. She wouldn’t go home with nothing, to become one of the Unformed, outcast and alone. She wouldn’t.
She slept with the lessons of the day whirling endlessly in her head, dancing to the beat of the drums.
***
Feet, pounding one after the other on the ground, slowing over uneven parts, pausing when she leapt to the top of a rock. Breath, shifting in and out like waves on the beach, rapid but regular; her body was in good condition, and she was proud of it. She took pleasure in testing it in the wilds of the isles. Heartbeat, also fast, but strong and even. Her body felt that pulse the most strongly; she sank into the beat.
Heat of the flames, heat of her body, like the fire Ise made with His dance when He created the world. Fire and air. Blood and breath. A rhythm in each, like the drumming of Ika, when She made the rhythm for Ise. They were the keys she sought. She could feel them in her. They weren’t far away. The fire of her heart, and the rhythm of her breath.
“What is your name?”
She jerked to a halt as though she had slammed into a wall. Her first instinct was to look around; she clamped down on herself before she could move and stared straight ahead. The ground there dropped away in a fall of rock; perhaps she would not have to climb down it, now that a voice had come. The Other. She had found the keys in her heart and her breath, and Ika and Ise had sent someone to her.
“I have no name,” she said, trying to slow her breathing so she wouldn’t gasp the words out. “I have come in search of a name and a form.”
“I know of a path which might lead you to such things. Will you follow it?”
She hadn’t believed them when they told her she would be afraid. Now, however, she understood; there was ice in her gut, and trembling in her body that had nothing to do with the exertion of running. Sometimes people didn’t come back. Sometimes they came back, but empty, lost. Meeting the Other was no guarantee of success. This was a test, not a stroll in the wild. She could still fail.
She wouldn’t fail.
She swallowed her fear and clenched her hands into fists. Fear wouldn’t stop her. “I will.”
A whirlwind took her away.
***
In fifteen years of life she had seen nothing to match it.
The world spread out below her, colorful and alive, looking nothing like the flat maps she had seen. The Kagesedo Isles were tiny next to the vast bulk of the rest of the Nine Lands; she had never realized how small her home was.
Her eyes devoured the view. She had grown up on the hard, rocky isles of the northern archipelago; now she had her first sight of thick jungles and flat grasslands, hard desert and the hunched shoulders of snow-capped mountains. She could feel it all, as though she were in every place at once: the heat and the cold, the rain and the dry, searing wind. It was nothing like she had ever imagined. Her mind could never have created something so awe-inspiring.
The voice spoke again from the air around her. “How does this make you feel?”
“I want to see it all,” she whispered. “With my own eyes—not in pictures. I want to travel, to ride from one end of the land to the other. I want to see the forests of Tir Diamh, and the great docking caverns of Stahlend, and the fountain-gardens of Aishuddha. Cities and markets and rivers and mountains—all of it. I want to see it all.” Her eyes closed against the sight, and to keep tears in. “But I can’t, can I? Not safely. Because there are too many people who…don’t like us.” Why couch it in gentle terms? The Other was a servant of Ika and Ise; he knew the truth. “They fear us. Or hate us. Because of what we are. Because of the gift Ika and Ise give to us.”
“And you feel…”
“Bitter,” she admitted. “Angry. It’s not right, that they should keep us penned up in the Isles, just because we have otherforms and they don’t! Why does that scare them so much? Maybe if we could travel more freely they would know us better, and wouldn’t be so afraid of us. But it’s dangerous, going out there, with them watching you at every turn, waiting for a chance to lock you up—or to kill you.” Frustration made her press her lips together. She wouldn’t cry. “I love my home. But I also want to see the world.”
“So you desire freedom.”
She looked at the vivid spread of the world below her. It called to her soul. “Yes.”
The whirlwind took her away again.
***
She threw herself to one side and slammed into the smooth dirt. The impact knocked the wind out of her, but she forced herself to roll and come to her feet before her attacker could advance again.
There was a knife in her hand.
She dodged and wove, ducking the blows of the man who pursued her. Each came closer. She couldn’t defend herself; she didn’t know how to fight!
But she couldn’t lie down and let him kill her, either.
There was a knife in her hand.
She looked for escape. The featureless dirt stretched as far as she could see in every direction. No walls, no doors. Nothing to hide behind. She was fast; she could try to run.
He lunged at her. She sidestepped, and in that moment saw her opportunity. Her hand moved, and the knife she held plunged into his chest.
The man fell.
There was someone else right behind him.
She leapt back, bloodstained knife held at the ready. The second man held a sword unsheathed in his hand. But he did not move to attack.
They both stayed where they were, crouched and wary. The man had his blade up, but he did nothing with it. Hate shone in his eyes, but he did not move.
Then he was gone.
“Why did you kill him?”
The knife had vanished; so had the body on the ground. She wrapped her arms around herself and tried not to feel sick. She had expected tests, but not like this. “He would have killed me.”
“You could have fled.”
“And then he might have gotten me from behind. I had an opening; I took it, rather than run and maybe die.” Some part of her mind had made that calculation instinctively.
“But what of the second man?”
The memory of those hate-filled eyes made her shiver. “I…I didn’t have an opening.”
“Was that all?”
The voice continued to sound impassive; still, she couldn’t help but read a slightly knowing tone into it. She had to answer his question; not cooperating could be another trap, another road to failure. “No. I…” Why hadn’t she killed the second man? The look in his eyes had made his attitude clear. “He hadn’t attacked. Which meant he wasn’t an immediate threat.”
“So you kill only when it is expedient.”
It sounded so harsh, when phrased that way. She couldn’t disagree with the voice’s conclusions, though. Some part of her mind had weighed the situation and made its decisions based on the results. She knew that her behavior here was not natural; she’d never been in a fight, and should not have been that calm. She should have been panicking.
But at the same time, it was natural. It was her, and the way she thought. Or the way she would think, if she were experienced with situations of this kind.
Did that mean she was destined to be that sort of person—one who fought and killed?
No. This wasn’t prophecy; it wasn’t anything of the future. It was her. What was in her heart and her soul. Her true nature.
If her true nature was to be expedient about death, fighting it wouldn’t accomplish anything.
She had not answered the voice yet. He seemed to have endless patience. She squared her shoulders and nodded. “Yes.”
The whirlwind came once more.
***
A black leather cord lay in her hands. She stared at it mutely.
At first her mind refused to acknowledge what the cord was. The feel of it in her hands could not be denied, though. It was a keishoni. She’d seen people wear them, wrapped around their arms, mostly at the festivals that celebrated the creation of the world. The women who drummed and the men who danced; they wore the keishoni, for their actions echoed those of Ika and Ise. The role of a god; that was what the keishoni signified.
“I can’t wear this,” she whispered.
It had nothing to do with being fifteen. She’d never be worthy of wearing the keishoni. It was an honor and a burden; she didn’t deserve the former and didn’t want the responsibility of the latter. More than that, even; she shouldn’t have it. She wasn’t right for it.
The keishoni lay in her hands, waiting for her to put it on.
“I can’t,” she repeated, and clenched her fists around the cord. Her heart pounded in her chest, not a steady rhythm but an irregular beat that made her hands shake. No one really knew what happened to those who came back without an otherform, what they had done to fail. Maybe this was it. The keishoni was a gift. Rejecting it—her heart thudded painfully. Rejecting it might be an unforgivable crime.
She knew why she had the keishoni. If she put it on, she could go forth and change things. She could move against the prejudice that kept the Kagi trapped in the Isles. She could help her people. Good things would come about for the Kagi if she put the keishoni on, for with it she would have the backing of Ika and Ise. With it, she could start a crusade that would shake the world.
Wasn’t that what she wanted?
“Yes,” she admitted out loud, trying to explain. “I do want it. But—not like this. We…we should do it ourselves. We should convince other people to change their ways, instead of just killing them. And we should do it without needing Ika and Ise to hold our hands. It would be different if the situation were worse, maybe, but right now it’s just prejudice and stalemate. We don’t have to have the help of the gods. We can stand on our own two feet—and we should.”
Slowly, one hair’s-breadth at a time, she opened her fingers. The keishoni was still there—but she wouldn’t wear it. Not unless there was no other choice.
“We still have a choice,” she said softly.
The keishoni disappeared, and the whirlwind caught her up and swept her away.
***
Flames leapt about her, hot and fierce. They reminded her of the flames that had surrounded her at the beginning of her quest. They would still be burning, tended until her return.
Assuming she returned.
She stood in the fire and wondered why the voice had not spoken to her about the keishoni. Had she failed? Made the wrong choice? Spurning Ika and Ise—that wasn’t what she’d meant by her refusal, but perhaps it had been interpreted that way, despite her explanation. She wanted to speak, to apologize, before the Other could condemn her and send her home empty. But the flames began to whirl in front of her, forming a vortex that drew her eyes and would not let go.
The flames entranced her, and in them she could hear the memory of drumbeats. Her heart pounded with them.
The fire of your heart. The rhythm of your breath.
She had found them within her, and the Other had come. She had been tested, in order that she might become an adult, with a name and an otherform. All of the keys were in her possession.
She closed her eyes, and gathered it all within.
A burst of heat opened her eyes again. The vortex grew in brightness until she had to shield her face; then it subsided. And where it had been—
A white raven.
Not albino; the raven was pure white, but with the black eyes normal for his kind. He spread his wings to a not inconsiderable width, then folded them again, flicking them so the feathers would align.
She stared at him for a long moment before finding her voice again. When she spoke she had no idea what she would say, but the words came of their own accord. “Freedom. And death, but not for its own sake. And—”
“Contradiction,” the raven said, speaking with the voice of the Other, the voice she had heard throughout her tests. “You do not do what is expected.”
She thought about the keishoni, the temptation she’d felt. But she hadn’t taken it, even though logically she ought to have. She had followed her own path, however surprising it was.
“White feathers,” she said. A bird for freedom, a raven for death, and white that should be black for contradiction.
The Other cocked his head to one side, studying her with a bright black eye that reflected the surrounding flames. “This is what I saw in you, Shikari.”
Shikari. Shika, meaning “shadow.” Ri, meaning “white.”
“Contradiction,” the raven repeated. “White Shadow. With the form of the white raven. This is what your path led to. Do you accept the name and the form?”
It was not what she had expected. The lynx had felt more likely. But she’d come out here to find herself, her true self, and even if it wasn’t what she’d thought, could she refuse it? She might not get a second chance. Refusal might leave her Unformed, not fully Kagi.
Refusal would separate her from this Other, who had led her along the path. It would be a slap in his face, and a dagger in her own heart.
“I accept,” Shikari said.
***
The rains which had been falling steadily all afternoon finally stopped, leaving the trees and boulders slick with a sheen of water. The clouds cleared away, bathing the islands in fading autumn light.
In the shadow of the stones, a bright light flashed.
Then a white raven spread her wings and leapt into the sky to find her way home.