Here's the second part of my excerpt, which is the last half of chapter one of my story. Kishna goes on her spirit journey, only to be confronted with a disturbing vision. Can she convince Turuna and her chief to believe her? Who knows!! Read to find out!
Kishna raced up the cliff face, stumbling over the rocks with a stitch in her side. The sun had begun to set nearly an hour ago, and now only a thin splash of yellow light was left on the horizon. Kishna burst through Turuna’s curtain, a cacophony of clinking beads breaking the stillness of the twilight.
“I’m so sorry, Turuna,” Kishna huffed, her hands on her knees. “We were watching the dancers, and there were fire-eaters, and time slipped away from us, and-”
Turuna turned, a wolf skull bumbling with sinister viridian liquid in her palm. She patted a blue pillow beside her and said, “No need to worry, dear. Come sit with me.” Kishna complied, nervously eying the green smoke that spun out of the skull.
“Let’s see,” the old woman said. “Quicksilver, a raven feather, imbued earth... I believe that’s it.” She placed the skull into Kishna’s shaking hands.
“Should I begin?” the apprentice asked.“Not yet. First, I have some warnings for you.”
Kishna swallowed. “Warnings?”
“The solution I’ve made is dangerous to anyone else who consumes it, but to a shaman, it allows us to astral project.”
“Separating the soul from the body,” Kishna murmured.
Turuna nodded. “Right. Once you’ve succeeded in transitioning into the spirit realm, your mentor of that world will greet you. I can’t promise what task it will have for you, but I can promise it will be trying. The final test is not easy.”
“Am I... really ready?”
“Ready as you’ll ever be. Now listen, do not stray from your spiritual guide. Your first projection is hard to escape from, and your mentor will be able to guide you back.”“Is there anything else I should know?”
“That should be all. When you are ready, Kishna, you may drink.”
Kishna gazed into the bubbling liquid, holding her nose. It smelled of carrion and musty bones, and the smoke made her eyes water. Taking a deep breath, she lifted the skull to her lips and drank. The solution burned her throat on the way down, the putrid taste sticking to her tongue. Kishna gagged, her fingers tingling as her vision spun like a maelstrom. She looked to Turuna, whose lips moved with speech, but the words were warped and distant.She dropped the skull and her vision went white.
*****
“Kishna.”
It was the voice that had whispered her name at the festival. It sounded like it came from far away on a zephyr, though it also came from nowhere. Kishna rubbed her eyes, blinded by a glaring white light. Blinking, she could see that she was in the middle of the desert, far from Yir’asha, but it seemed different from what she remembered: the sand was much too pale, almost like salt, and the sky was like a bright dreamscape that was spotted with golden clouds.
“Kishna,” the voice repeated. “So you’ve arrived.” Kishna glanced around and almost jumped out of her skin when she saw a white owl behind her. It turned its head curiously, its sapphire eyes inspecting her.
“You,” Kishna said, standing to her feet. “You’re the owl I saw at the festival.”
The owl ruffled its wings. “That was me. My name is Lada, and I am your spiritual guide.” Kishna noticed the owl’s beak didn’t move when she spoke; her voice seemed to be coming from all around the desert.
“Lada,” Kishna said, smiling. “Nice to meet you. Turuna told me you’d have a test for me.”
“Not a test. A vision.” Lada spread her wings and lifted into the air without flapping. “Come, fly with me.”
“Fly?”
“Oh, that’s right. Humans don’t fly too often. All you have to do is jump into the air and swim. Humans can swim.”
Feeling ridiculous, Kishna leapt in the air and stroked frantically, shocked when she stayed afloat. She kicked her legs and looped in the air with a laugh. Lada hooted, almost like a chuckle.
“Follow me.”
The owl flew into the silvery horizon, Kishna following her ivory silhouette. The white dunes below rushed beneath them, glittering like diamonds, though Kishna noticed she had no shadow on the ground. They flew for what seemed like hours, days even, with no words spoken between them.
Finally, they reached the coastline. The water was still as if it were a solid sheet of glass. In the distance, a whirling tempest of smoke rose into the clouds, the stench of burning flesh carried on the breeze. As they neared the smoke, Kishna stopped, gazing at the horrific scene below her.
“No.”
It was a village, its outer walls crumbled to dust and the wooden huts and sandstone buildings smoldering. Bodies littered the ground amongst the rubble, impaled with arrows or reduced to charred bones. Some were still hanging to life by a thread, feebly holding blood into their wounds as they cried ghostly screams. A pyre spat smoke into the village square, though the fire that once burned there was gone.
“This is Yir’asha,” Lada said, “within a single nightfall.”
“But... why? What happened?” Kishna choked.
“I assume you’ve heard of the Noresk Empire?”
Kishna nodded. “They did this... why? They’re the single most powerful nation in the world. What would they want from a village like ours?”
“Do you believe in the gods, Kishna?” Lada asked.
“Well, yes. Of course. What does-”
“What do the gods have that the races of Halrefold lack?”
“Power. Knowledge... immortality.”
“Precisely. That’s what the Noresk king, Falden, is after.”
“But why attack Yir’asha?”
Lada dropped from the air, perching by the dead pyre. Kishna followed.
“Falden is building a citadel,” Lada explained. “Not to the gods, but to himself. In the Noresk capital of Falamäd, he has ordered the construction of a black citadel, so high it reaches the heavens. Falden is imbuing the citadel with magic from mages of all around the world. Once complete, the massive power of the structure would drain the gods, filling Falden with all of their abilities combined.”
Kishna raised an eyebrow. “Would that work?”
“It might. If it does, a human like Falden would be driven mad by the unspeakable knowledge of the gods. He’d be unstoppable. If it doesn’t work, the gods would find out. With the citadel serving as a portal from the realm of deities to the realm of mortals, they would be able to descend, the most wicked of all free to reign chaos on Halrefold.”
“But what does all this have to do with Yir’asha?”
“He needs workers to build it. The laborers of Noresk are not enough for him: he wants the citadel to be built faster. He’s been hiring the Windriders to collect slaves from small villages around Halrefold.”
“Ina was right,” Kishna said. “They have been up to something.”
The shaman glanced around the dreamscape, her ruined home bringing a choke to her throat. She looked into Lada’s bright blue eyes, overflowing with wisdom.
“What should I do?” she said, lost.
“Alert Turuna. She will go to Chief Suranko. Yir’asha will be able to prepare for an attack.”
“And what about the Citadel?”
“Do not worry yourself with it just yet, Kishna,” Lada said. “Save your home before you can help the rest of the world. Are you ready to return?”
Kishna nodded. “Wake me up.”
*****
Kishna’s body jolted. She opened her eyes to see the roof of Turuna’s hut blurred above her, her mentor standing over her curiously. Kishna sat up, drenched with sweat and shivering violently, her mouth as dry as cotton. The world spun.
Turuna handed her a clay cup of water. “That was fast. You were only gone for a half hour. You did well?”
Kishna gulped the water down and her burning throat cooled. “Turuna. We have to go to Chief Suranko. There was Yir’asha and it was burning and the Citadel and-”
“Slow down, dear,” Turuna said, kneeling next to her. “Calm yourself. What did you see?”
Taking a deep breath, Kishna started over. “I met my spiritual guide. Lada, an owl. She took me across the desert to Yir’asha. When we got there it had been destroyed, nearly everyone killed and the strong captured... enslaved. There were so many dead, Turuna. So many... we have to do something...”
“You were shown a vision?”Kishna nodded. “Lada said it would happen tomorrow. An attack from the Noresk Empire, for slaves.”
“Kishna,” Turuna said, her face drawn with concern. “Are you sure it was your spiritual guide?”
“Yes. Well... I think so. She was an owl; a white owl with blue eyes.”
“Hmm. If it was a demon sent to the spiritual realm to toy with you, then that would be a difficult form to replicate. Unless...” Turuna paused.
“Unless what?”
“Nevermind. Come, Kishna, let’s go to Chief Suranko. He’ll have a hard time believing this story, but it’s worth a try.”
Turuna helped Kishna to her feet, whose legs were still uneasy from the journey. Slumping, she followed Turuna out of the hut, the bead curtain clattering behind them and the brisk night air wiping the heat from her body. The stars twinkled like fireflies over the velvet night canvas. Two of the three moons were visible tonight: the golden globe of Sharitku and her shattered son Toritsan.
The two women hurried into town, carts and stages and decorations left abandoned from the festival. Warm candlelight glowed from inside homes, silhouettes dancing over the reed shades. Across the town square rose a sandstone monument, shaped like a pyramid with its top grazed off, lined with statues of the gods of Yir’asha. On either side of the high wooden gate stood two bronze-clad young men, armed with spears and cloaked with coyote pelts. They nodded at Turuna as she approached.
“Turuna,” the first guard said, saluting. “You have business with Chief Suranko at this time of night?”
“I’m afraid it’s urgent,” the old shaman said, leaning on her cane.
The other guard sighed, bored. “You may pass.”
“Thank you.” Turuna hobbled across the threshold, Kishna stepping forward to follow her. Two bronze spears clashed across the entrance, the clamor causing Kishna to leap backwards.
“The girl stays,” the first guard says. “She has no business here.”
Turuna sneered. “This girl is the entire reason I’m here. I’ll have to ask that you move aside.” The two guards remained still, the barrier of spears impassable. With an irritated sigh, Turuna flipped a hand at each guard, a gale blowing them off of their feet and placing them not so gently some thirty feet away. “Come in, my dear.”
“Won’t you get in trouble for that?” Kishna asked, glancing back at the angry guards who struggled to their feet.
“Of course not,” Turuna said. “I’m old, what would they do to me?”
The shamans wandered down the mighty hall lined with blazing torches. It poured into a square room with a single octagonal table, occupied by Chief Suranko. He didn’t notice them entering; he was busy pouring over a long scroll, a hand grasping his temple.
“Suranko,” Turuna said. “I hope I’m not intruding.”
The chief looked up, his brown face slashed with a deep scar. His crown of bronze, lapis lazuli, and peacock feathers rested over his plaited gray hair: it was rumored he never removed it, even while he slept. A leopard pelt was slung over his shoulder and his arms were strong and covered with blue tattoos.
“Oh, it’s just you, Turuna,” he said, rolling up the scroll. “What makes you think you can barge in at all hours of the night upon your chief?”
“Don’t give me that, Suranko,” Turuna huffed. “This is dire.”
“I don’t have time for games from shamans.” Suranko stood and walked to a high bookshelf across from the table, lined with tomes and scrolls.
“Yir’asha is doomed unless you stop being so stubborn and listen to us!” Turuna said, striking her walking stick on the ground. “My apprentice was shown a vision.”
Suranko turned and looked Kishna up and down, unimpressed. “So now you come to me with girls barely past their Adulthood Ritual, crying of nightmares? Would you like me to tuck her back into bed as well?”
“Quit being a grumpy fool. Go ahead, Kishna, dear, tell him what you saw.”
Kishna stepped forward, her mouth open but no sound coming out. Suranko glared at her, impatiently tapping his fingers on the bookshelf. Clearing her throat, Kishna tried again.
“Well, sir, uh... your majesty,” Kishna began. “I’m an apprentice of Turuna’s. And... tonight I was to go on my final test, to become a real shaman. A spirit journey.”
“You have been training a shaman without consent of the Council, Turuna?” Suranko said. “Do you know what this could mean for Yir‘asha if an outsider was to find out?”
“You can’t just expect us to roll over and die off,” Turuna said. “We were the reason our village became what it is today.”
Suranko huffed. “This is a discussion for later. Don’t think I won’t forget about it. Go on, young one.”
“I met my guide, Lada. She led me to a prediction of Yir’asha tomorrow morning. Falden had recruited Windriders to attack and enslave us. Most were dead, the rest, taken.”
Suranko scratched his chin. “You believe this girl's tale, Turuna?”
“She is no liar,” Turuna said. “And her vision could very well become a reality unless you as a chief do something.”
Suranko paced the room, hands clasped behind his back. He mumbled to himself distantly, and then stopped before the shamans. “Very well,” he said finally. “My warriors and archers will be mobilized around Yir'asha’s outer walls at sunrise. Turuna, gather the mystics and tell them to prepare. After you have alerted them, retreat back to your home and hide.”
“Hide?!” Turuna yelled. “Hide? Do you think of me as a coward now?”
Suranko leered. “That’s an order. No outsiders may know of the power that you or your apprentice here hold. That would spell doom for Yir’asha.”
“It would spell doom if you force one of your most powerful allies to cower inside the walls.”
“Enough,” Suranko roared. “Now go. Do as I say or I will consider it treason.”
Turuna shook with anger. “As you wish,” she spat. She turned, storming down the hall with Kishna behind her, silent. The two guards had returned to their posts, eying each other nervously as Turuna came through.
“Now, Kishna,” Turuna said, “I have work to do. Go to the hut and stay there. Don’t leave until morning. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
“Yes, Turuna,” Kishna said. She watched the old woman vanish into the night. Solemnly, she retreated to the hut, her head spinning and her body aching. Upon reaching the cramped cottage, Kishna collapsed on a large pillow with a sigh, her head still throbbing from Turuna‘s potion. The vision of Yir’asha playing over in her mind, she slipped into an uneasy sleep. That night, Kishna dreamed of fire and smoke.
And that's chapter one. It's my third rewrite... the first draft was simply awful and this one is just kind of bad. Hopefully by rewrite six it'll be halfway decent. Let me know what you think, and most of all: Does the story keep you interested at all? Do you care what happens to Kishna and her village, or would you rather it be burned to the ground so the story will be over?
Geisha crane, Orizukuko-chan. She is holding an origami teapot in one wing and a teacup in the other. She wears her hair in the typical style of a geisha past her apprenticeship, with decorative chopsticks in her hair.
Cranichu, the Pikachu crane. Despite the crane's love of water, Cranichu is coursing with electricity, which is a bummer for other fauna in the waters nearby. Cranichu's best friends are Bulbacrane, Charcraneder, Craquirtle, and his trainer, Crash.
