As the last words of my song leave my lips, the sound echoes through the desert night. The movement of my clothing ends and settles around me as I mirror the position I had started in: leaning to the side with arms and legs crossed, hands splayed out in reverence to the night sky. The musicians behind me had gradually let their performance come to an end before I finished singing, with only Qal'ro's plucked chords completing the ceremony. I had found my eyes closed at some point during the ceremony, my senses picking up even the smallest of details. I could smell the burning of the braziers, sweet and smoky, hear the barest whistle of the breeze along the sand dunes. My skin crawled with the crunch of individual grains of sand beneath my feet. My tongue could taste the sweetness of the night air.
And still I did not move. My body refused to, and I found I didn't want to. My senses fell away gradually, and all sound seemed to wash from the world. I opened my eyes slowly to the expanse of the silvery dunes beyond.
i have come, child
I gasp as a sonorous feminine voice resounds, around me, under me, *through me*, like the deepest of drums, yet without any of the sounds carrying. Taking a step back in shock, I look around furtively for the speaker. My eyes fall on the people behind me, but they seemed to have stopped in place as if they were statues. The fingers of smoke from the dead bonfire had ceased moving, and the braziers themselves were stopped mid-flame. I could only see the shifting of the sands blown by the miniscule breeze.
Screwing my eyes shut I take a deep breath, then open both mouth and eyes to respond. The words begin to flow, as if I had always known what to say.
'Spirit of the Desert, O Vish'nil, I come as your vessel Lis'ya, to speak your words and to follow your grace.'
Even as I said the words, I knew them to be true. I felt them in the deepest reaches of my heart, even if I had never practiced them or known them until this moment. I hesitate, then bring myself to stand squarely in the middle of the nis'yat, my arms held low and out before me.
The voice once again resounds through my body.
proud are the children of the Ishar, Child
i am pleased they still hold a guiding light
what do you give, Child, for the sake of your people
As the last words trickle through my mind and body, I shudder. The voice felt like grains of sand shifting under my hands, like the sweeping of the desert hills, of roaring rivers and beautiful oases, of craggy mountains and scraggly plantlife.
Once again, words form in my mouth without my knowledge, like a burst dam roaring forth to cascade through valleys.
'O Vish'nil, I give to you my life, so that your will continue through my children, and their children. I give the water of my womb, the rivers of my blood, the crackling of my spirit, and the passions of my soul. I give to you the bounty of life that you have given to us since the beginning, and ask only for your wisdom, ask only for your guidance, ask only for your love, as has always been, as shall always be.
She speaks again.
these are things that are always given
and still these things shall always be accepted
i accept these gifts from you and in turn offer one to you
Gasping through grit teeth, the spirit's voice rattles my very core once again. Sands begin to kick up suddenly, a sandstorm thicker than tar tearing its way around me so I could only see the nis'yat and nothing beyond. Swirling sands coalesced into a scene, of armored riders bearing down on the young and the old, slaughtering mercilessly. A form of an elderly woman brought a spear to bear and took one of the riders, and then another, her stooped and wizened body quick for her age, belying the history of a dancer through the ages. She was brought down by two riders, however, as they pierced her heart, her body crying out as the forms disintegrated into the storm. The storm then showed a small number of people walking off together into the sands beyond, leaving behind dozens of corpses.
I looked on in horror as the scene continued, before the swirling storm blew down toward the ground and dissipated, leaving no trace it had ever existed. I could feel my skin flush with unease and bile threatening to overtake me, my knees buckling beneath me. Swallowing quickly, I force the feeling down and stand up on unsteady feet.
a gift to you child
a portent to understand
your gifts i would welcome
but your gifts offered will never come
still do you desire to be my vessel
The spirit says the last as a question, the voice soft and gentle this time. I hesitate, wondering at the scene I watched. *What...was that..*, I ask myself. Shaking my head, I look back toward the silvery dunes and speak out.
'O Spirit of my ancestors, Spirit of my land, I desire to be your vessel, to accept your guiding hand.'
The spirit says nothing, but instead a cloud of sand and air swirl up from the edge of the platform. A featureless and faceless figure with a shifting, vaguely feminine body flows forward before stopping inches from me. It holds out its hand to my face, the coarse sand gentle against my cheek. Mirroring the figure's action, I touch its face, and press my forehead to it. In unison, the figure and I speak the mantra of the Ishar.
Small mercies will guide us
Through the dunes of the Ishar.
Time will guide our destinies
As the chaos of fates go free.
We celebrate with heart and home
As our freedoms lay upon shifting sands.
As the last line finishes, the wind picks up once more, blowing the figure in front of me across the nis'yat.
we entwine through time and more, Child
let us see what fates have stored
Again, the spirit's voice fills my mind and body but neither resonant or loud, but still deep, as if a large sound filled a small space. The encounter with the desert spirit quickly fades from me, unbidden. I grasp for it, trying to remember, but it leaves as soon as it had come. I blink, and the sounds of the people erupt behind me. I jump lightly, startled, then turn to the cheering commune, the dozens of people gathered for the sole purpose of celebrating life. As I gaze on them, I could feel the grasp of knowledge beginning to form in my mind, a deeper understanding of my own people
"The life we live is just a grain of a moment," I think to myself.
I smile toward the congregation, putting the thought aside, and laugh as I jump into the arms of the waiting Qal'ro, his lips seeking mine as we kiss amidst the cheers.
Elder Kri'va comes toward me, pushing people aside aside, lightly whacking some with a cane she must have been handed, before embracing me fully.
'The beauty, child! I've never seen anything like it since my younger days! Ye truly are my great grandchild!' She cackles then, humor lighting up her face.
'I certainly hope so, Elder,' I say. 'It'd be a shame to not have the same passion as you.' Her snort illicits a laugh from me, the mirth behind the exchange gentle.
Qal'ro swings his ban'lo onto his back before picking me up in his arms, his green eyes glittering along with his easy smile amidst a shallow beard.
'Come dearest, let's head back and celebrate. I learned this joke from old Brag'un today, and I'm dying to tell it to you.'
I put my arms around his neck and laugh against his chest.
'It had better not be the one about the *sil'ir'it* and the miner again. I think I've heard that one far too often.'
He laughs and kisses me.
'No, no, dearest, it's actually one about a father boar and a mother eagle.'
The group of people begin to follow Qal'ro and myself away from the nis'yat, putting out the braziers as they pass by. Back at the remains of the bonfire, a set of older boys tend to the embers glowing in the sand, working together quickly to bring the bonfire back to roaring life. I sat there with Qal'ro, our arms linked, drinking in the sights and sounds of one another, speaking of small things. What to find to trade in the morning, our journey back to out into the desert. We spoke of the towns we wanted to see if our journeys took us to the Guiymor steppes to the far west, and of our next performance for our tribe.
Qal'ro began to speak to the others around us, sharing the heat of the bonfire and the drink among us. I rested my back against his chest, his arms surrounding me lovingly and protectively, his deep voice lulling me into a trance. The world began to fall away, until I could only hear a heartbeat. I stared deeply into the flames of the raging fire, the heartbeat growing louder until it filled my senses.
a quality of life
the begetting of a new future
shall we weep...Child...
The last line was a question, one that I had no answer for. I barely understood the question itself. I was content, what was there to weep over?
At that, a man jostles into Qal'ro and myself, my senses coming back to me in a rush. The two of us laughed as the man sprawled out in the sand, before the two of us help him to sit in the light and heat of the fire. He begins to mumble something incoherent while patting Qal'ro on the arm.
I look toward Qal'ro.
'An apology, do you think?'
He appears to think deeply about it.
'Ah, but I like to think it was more a deep philosophical musings of a man who sees much and says little,' he responds in a serious tone, though his eyes betray his mischief.
I laugh and stumble into him, my head feeling free with the drink. Qal'ro catches me, tottering himself.
'Aye dearest, I think it's time we awayed to bed, shall we?'
I smile at him and wrap my arms around his neck, kissing him.
'Yes, I think we shall.'
Together we arrive at the tent I had gotten dressed in, ducking inside quickly. Moonlight peers through a small slit in the entrance of the tent, illuminating us and our surroundings. He kisses me gently, then begins to help me to undress, carefully placing each piece of clothing back upon the mannequin. He was on his knees putting my boots away as I sat sideways in the center of the tent, on the rug I had danced upon earlier, my legs to one side. He turned and stopped, his smile at my nakedness appreciative and filled with a contained passion that set my skin to flame.
I beckon to him, and at the cue, he moves forward, removing his silk pants and shirt, his body now as naked as I was. I lay back as he crawls forward over me, laying down next to me. He weaves his fingertips along my skin, and I press my face against his neck, breathing him in. Gently, he touches my face, then runs his fingers through my hair, kissing me softly and deeply. Our kisses become more passionate as he abandons my hair for my breast, kneading gently, softly caressing my nipple with his fingertip. I gasp as my need for him grows. I run my hand down his chest, to his thighs and finally his manhood.
He breathes deeply, lays fully over me and pushes my legs open with his knees. I wrap my legs around his waist, our kisses deep and furtive, our speed picking up. He guides himself between my legs, before entering me. I can feel his body shake with controlled desire, and I gasp as he fills me entirely. I could feel blood trickle from me, but he only lays there, watching me, kissing me, breathing with me. Finally after an eternity I feel ready, and grasping him I pull him toward me.
He begins moving, gently, as my breath catches between pain and mounting pleasure. His lips meet mine, then my jaw, my ears, and finally my neck, making me gasp, an electric shiver running deep, down into my spine and through my limbs, before coming back to my head. I cry out as he moves, guiding our lovemaking to a slow intensity. I feel him unable to resist any longer as he moves more quickly, more thoughtlessly, my body and voice encouraging him. The night felt like it would last forever, our quiet moans permeating the tent. He looks into my eyes, his own filled with a mixture of unrestrained desire and love, and I kiss him lovingly. He cries out as he finishes, his warmth spreading within me, my own cries quiet against the desert night.
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