Chapter 5
five
. . .
E’kili
Blood-soaked soil parts to an opal moon hanging high in the sky, its light greeting me like an old friend. My runes swirl, helping me with enough energy to pull myself from the hole. The earth has golden lightning bolts, zipping through its crack, that absorb into my skin.
Dragon Island is keeping me alive.
And by spite, I will live.
My throat burns, my chest is tight, and my arms and legs protest movement. Yet, I drag myself completely out of the pit. The earth closes up behind me. A bitter cold throbs in my stomach where the blade sank deep. I’ve used my mana to the point that it can not repair damage to my body.
If I can reach the temple, there should be enough mana embedded in the walls to help me recharge and heal.
In my hand, I clutch the cowrie shells of my fallen sisters — my family, my folk.
And I hate myself for leaving them exposed for those beasts to see, to examine, to touch their bodies like they have the right.
I bellow out curses.
I can’t think of Mytu’fi. She was a gentle soul.
Her mutahs thought she wasn’t ready to take on this fight.
They pleaded on her behalf, even asking the elders to take her place instead.
But their mana wasn’t strong enough to be considered.
When I return to the sea, I must give them their daughter’s cowrie necklace with the weight of guilt for not keeping their daughter safe, for not returning her home.
Ooki was a village child. Her mutahs passed away when she was young on a bad hunting trip, and the sisterhood raised her as their own. She never wanted for anything; the community helped her to sing, to raise her voice, and allowed her to know the love of a thousand mutahs.
Her necklace rightly goes to the highest elder. But I cling to her shells. Selfish in my grief. She left me. She promised me that we would see the end together. She lied.
She lied!
I will mourn her across the sea. My cry will be carried by the great blue whales until it reaches the seven corners of the earth. Lands will hear the wail and feel my lament in their hearts. They will call it beauty. And in that beauty, Ooki will be honored.
Ahead, I crawl toward wisps of buzzing honey light.
My mind is split into two. My right eye sees the crumbling temple before me, and my left eye sees the greatness of the twin pillars as they once were.
One image of bright golden doors, the next a fading Garibaldi puffing its last breaths.
These images cause my stomach to turn with nausea.
I tug myself to my feet. The wound rips wider, and fresh blood drains out. I stumble. Each step is heavier than the last. Vision blurs, drifting in and out of a dream. Breathing. Barely. Struggling. Short, steady steps. Blood.
Drip.
Drip.
Dripping.
Through my fingertips.
I’m fading.
I must get to the temple. It will heal me. I must keep going. Blood litters the earth with each footstep I take. My calf muscles burn.
Ooki, songbird. Mytu’fi, young hatchling.
“Le’ ey leyv!” I croak.
I bear down, my teeth grinding against each other, my brows set.
I will live. And so will my people.
I–I drag myself to golden doors.
Will–I push them open.
Live–I stumble in, legs spread wide, stabilizing myself so I don’t hit the ground. In the center of the entrance stands the statue that represents the sisterhood of our people. Swirling at her feet are the fairy lights of the azizas, and within that light is a figure.
I bite my tongue, fumbling for the last sawfish dagger at my hip. Holding it out with blood-soaked hands, I ready myself for a fight.
“Yu ‘r?” My hands tremble. “Yu ‘r!” I say again, a thousand shards of glass slicing my belly.
My skin is ripping. My life spills out of me.
The dagger slips to the stone floor. The world spins, and I go with it.
My body slams to the ground. I am swimming.
Drifting. The images of what was once my home flash behind slowly closing eyelids.
I remember hands, so many hands. Brown, pale, coral, honey, sandstone, olive, alabaster, ivory, obsidian. Hands, hands that know me, welcome me. Hands that carry me from my mother’s womb and into their arms. All holding me, loving me. I can see them all. Feel them all.
“Plee’sa.” Tears spill as if I have a bountiful store of liquid within me. Oh, the moon, the dragon, my sisters. “Plee’sa.” My shoulders slump. The hands of my dead aunties, cousins, lovers, split like the sea, and another, with flaming red hair, came into focus.
“Plee’sa,” I say, reaching for hair of fire, skin, a red-brown blushing cuttlefish.
Full lips, eyes brown and curious. Her full hips sway, revealing beautiful hip dips and a well-fed belly.
I have never seen her, and I think I must be dreaming because there is no way a star has fallen right into my arms.
“Plee’sa.” Has the temple revealed itself to me in woman form?
I try to sit up, but I’m not sure how far I get.
I reach out my hand to touch her. If I can just hold her in my arms, I know I’ll be healed.
My heart speeds, thumping, humming, hope shimmering in her brown eyes. My fingertips are close. So close.
She bends down, right in my grasp. With one last push, I jolt upright and pull her to me. I smash my lips against hers, sharing my mana, and calling to her mana to come to me, connect to me, bond with me. She tastes sweet like violets, no — sweet pea. She smells like jasmine.
I sense her power surge. It’s hot, burning — lava.
Ice and Fire, cosmic energy crashing into each other’s life force, and I’m completely consumed by her.
Her mana is strong, yet new. She falls into me, and I drink her down.
She tastes of the land, the rolling hills, everything I miss, and all that I desire.
Her runes burn bright gold, and her mana pours into my mouth.
I am so greedy, I slurp her up. My head becomes lighter, the pain easing, my eyelids heavy. It’s like I’m floating. Belly up — a dying fish just at the surface of letting go, and then I’m pulled down.
Down.
Down.
In the depths of the sea, swimming, absorbing, sunbathing in her kiss. If I let her go, I’m afraid of what will happen. And yet, she pushes my shoulders, her lips separate from mine. A string of gold light ties itself into a knot, connecting our mana, then slowly disappears.
My heart song…
Was my last thought as my back hit the stone floor. My eyes flutter shut.
And then hands — so many hands — carry me home.