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Ravenna
(Pronunciation note: The
female characters in this story have ‘na’ attached to the end of their name,
and the males ‘ra.’ So Raven becomes
‘Raven-nuh,’ Teak becomes ‘Teak-ruh’ and so on.)
We dance, our antelope
hooves nimble and quick along the cliff edge, our wings outspread to catch us
if we fall. Swanna laughs, head thrown back, white wings gleaming. She is all
light and mirth, all sweetness and intoxication.
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Chimera, from the Aeries clan, we are human from our head down to our thighs, but the similarities end there. Just below
our pelvis the skin tapers into brown fur, before changing completely to the legs of
an antelope. Antelope ears and eyes are set into human faces as varied as the insects that crawl the earth. Powerful wings sprout from our backs. We are decidedly not human, but not fully beast either and the human hunters that roam this mountain hate Chimera like us more than any others.
We have been warned about the
hunters. We should be cautious, and quiet. We should not be here at all. But we
are young, rebellious, and stupid and the sun is warm and golden on our skin. The
sky stretches, sapphire blue, dotted with perfect puffy clouds. Lush green
grass flattens beneath our hooves as our laughter, mine low and growling,
Swanna’s high and ringing, tangles together, then soars across the mountaintop.
We are sure of our own cleverness. Sure we will be young and free forever.
Everything shatters in an instant.
Swanna’s dance abruptly ceases, her
expression bewildered as she falls, an arrow protruding from her chest. I fling
myself on top of her, dragging her to the shelter of an overhanging rock.
My sister, my twin, lies in a pool
of her own blood, her wings splattered crimson.
“Go,” she tells me, gasping.
“I won’t leave you. I can’t.”
“You,” she struggles to speak,
hands clutching at the arrow shaft, “must go. Now.”
“No!”
Sudden peace overtakes her and she
stops struggling. “Ravenna, look at your hands.”
I look. They are red with blood. It
is everywhere, in the dirt, on my skin. Even the scent hovers in the air,
making me sick. I know what it means, and I know that she knows. “Swan,” I
whisper. “I can’t leave you.”
“You must.” She lifts her hand,
wincing with the effort, and strokes my cheek. “Leave me and live, sister. Live
for me.”
I shake my head, tears blurring my
vision. I remember a long ago oath, a promise sworn in blood. It hovers between
us, but I can’t force out the words.
“Go. Now. “
“But-”
“They are coming.”
Choking on a sob, I bend down,
pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I love you, Swan. I will always love you.”
I leap into the air, wings pumping.
I turn back for one last look at Swanna’s dwindling form, and an arrow pierces
my left wing. I spiral out of control, and plummet, barely avoiding collisions
with jagged outcroppings as I tumble.
Bones crunch as I hit the ground,
and my left wing crumples beneath me. With gritted teeth I force myself up. My
left wing hangs useless. With great care I fold it to my back, biting back a
wail.
I run.
I abandon my sister, the better
half of myself.
I, with my wings of ebony, and the
dark, brooding soul to match, endure, while my white winged twin, so much more
deserving than me, dies alone.
It should be
me.
I run for what seems like days, but
is only a few hours. The journey to the mountain is only a few hours flight
from our home, but it will take me much longer to return on hoof with a broken
wing to coddle.
I think of our father, furious at
us for disobeying and probably worried sick. I think of Teakra, Swanna’s lover,
and my friend. He will surely be angry that we left him behind. I think of what
I will have to tell them when I get home, and nearly give up right there.
Somehow, I push on until night falls.
I no longer fear the hunter’s pursuit. If they catch me now they can have me.
Completely spent, I don’t bother with a fire, or food. I sleep, heart aching,
broken wing throbbing.
I dream of
Swanna falling, arrow struck. Over and over the vision repeats, until I wake,
my human chest heaving. With a fury I did not know I possess I claw, rending
scratches up and down my arms, my torso, my neck.
The humans think we are ugly. Deformed,
and debased creatures not worthy to live in the precious, perfect society they
desire. We are devils, and monsters.
It is the humans, with their
shackles, and weapons and hatred of things they cannot understand that are the
real monsters. Happy to enslave us, when they aren’t intent on destroying us
first, and at this moment I hate the human parts of my form. I hate how they
make me akin to the ones that killed my sister. Blood flows freely down my arms
and chest by the time I stop, to tired to continue.
I fall asleep sobbing.
This time I
dream of the blood ceremony. An ancient Aerie tradition, the blood ceremony
pairs two Aeries in a bond of loyalty and survival. Two Aeries pledge to watch
over each other, whether in actual battle, or just in the battle of every day
life. The bonded partners agree to do whatever it takes to keep each other safe
from hunters. For us, death at the hands of our bond partner is preferable to
death by hunter or worse, enslavement. In this way, we can grant each other
mercy and peace, in an age when both are improbable.
In the
dream, I feel blood dripping down my fingers, warm and sticky, from the slices
on my palm. I press my hand to Swan’s, as I had done in reality just a few
years ago. Our mingled blood merely a symbol of the blood ties we already
share. Swanna’s smile radiates utter confidence in her choice as she speaks the
words of the pledge. I smile back, and open my mouth. What comes out is not
words, but black shadows. They flow from my mouth, creepy tendrils reaching for
Swanna’s neck. I scream, and the shadows flow faster, covering my sister, winding
around her until she is wrapped up like a butterfly in a cocoon. I cover my mouth, but it is to late.
Swanna is gone, eaten up by my darkness.
I jolt upright, my entire body shaking. Guilt
scrabbles up my chest, choking me. I could have eased her passage from this
world to the next. I had vowed to do so, but instead, weak and afraid, I had
run, leaving her in agony.
New, horrible thoughts occur to me,
and I actually wince as they reverberate inside my skull. What if the hunters found her before she died? What if they tortured
her? What if her wound was not fatal at
all, and they take her as a slave?
I remember the moment right before
I ran, how I had tried to speak, tried to follow through on my vow. Swanna had to
have known what I was going to say. She knew that I was not strong enough,
probably knew when she pledged that day so many years ago.
She had sacrificed her own peace
for mine.
Swanna’s face swims behind my eyes,
and I hear her chiming laugh. I cry until I’m as parched and arid as the Sunred
Desert.
Darkness, the darkness that lives
in me, always swirling just beneath my skin, escapes. It consumes me, eating me
from the inside out and I drown in shame and guilt, in the truth of my deficiencies.
Ravenna.
I choke on a sob, startled out of
the dark hole I’ve climbed into. I stand, senses on high alert, antelope ears
swiveling.
A presence hovers behind my left
shoulder. For a single moment the voice, the essence, feels familiar, but then
I’m overwhelmed and terrified. I race away itno the night.
The presence follows.
No matter how hard or fast I run it
is always just behind me. I think it is the hunters, but it doesn’t feel solid
or physically present, yet it oozes anger. I keep running long past the point
of breakdown. My legs ache, and my broken wing jars with each step, sharp and
agonizing. By the time I make it to the village my hoof steps are sluggish, but
I’m still moving. I’m barely conscious, and I don’t know how I’m still on my feet.
As I step into the circle of huts, I finally fall. Aerie children watch me,
their eyes wide. I hear shouts, and feel vibrations under my cheek as someone rushes
toward me.
I don’t know if the spirit is
lingering, but I can’t find the energy to care. Go ahead, take me, I think.
Just before I close my eyes, I
swear I feel something soft brush my cheek.
* * *
When I wake a few days later, my
father sits by my bed. He takes my hand. “Thank the gods you’re awake.”
I try to
sit up. My father helps me situate my bandaged wing, and offers me a drink of
water.
I can see
the question floating in his eyes, but he doesn’t voice it. Not yet.
“Are you
hungry? I have soup.”
I don’t
answer.
He
swallows, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “Ravenna, where is your sister?”
I turn my
face to the wall, so I don’t have to see his agony, his disappointment when I
tell him. I hear him sob; feel his hand on my shoulder before he rushes out,
abandoning me as I abandoned her.
By the time I’m able to leave our
hut everyone knows what happened. They watch me with sympathetic eyes, and
whisper condolences. They cluck with concern. My anger ignites as easily as a
strip of bark held to a flame.
I don’t deserve sympathy.
My father drifts about, as ethereal
as a ghost. At night he locks himself in his room, his wails seeping through
the door like water through paper. Swanna was the one who took care of him, the
one who knew how to make him smile. Without her, he is like an orphaned baby
bird, featherless and lost. Permanently barred from the sky.
Teakra wanders the village, dazed
and hollow-eyed.
The three of us were inseparable
once. We started as downy winged chicks learning to fly; yet somehow we grew
together instead of apart. Even when it became clear they were falling for each
other, they managed to include me in the tumble. While they lived and loved
with abandon, I pretended to hate their delight in everything, their complete
awe of the world. The truth is, they made me lighter. They canceled out my
blackness.
Now the tie that bound us together has
been severed. Teakra is stone-limbed and heavy, his face purple and shadowed as
if he’s been bruised by life. He reflects my own grief, and I cannot bear to
look at him.
So I don’t.
* * *
My wing heals quickly, but my heart
is still as raw and jagged as a fresh arrow wound when Teakra finally seeks me
out. I sit under a pine tree, crushing needles between my fingers, breathing in
the pungent, spicy scent.
“Ravenna,”
he says.
I don’t
look up. I want him to leave, but he waits, silent.
“What do you want, Teakra?”
“Are you
mad at me?”
“No.”
“Then why,”
I hear his hooves swishing through the grass as he moves closer. “Why have you
been avoiding me?”
I keep my eyes glued to my hands.
The oil from the pine needles coats my fingers, and I rub them together.
If I look at him I will break.
Shatter. Explode.
“Look at me, Ravenna.”
Surprised by the sharp command, I
raise my eyes and some part of me fragments into a thousand pieces. I drop my
eyes.
“Go away.”
“Raven, I just want…I need to…” He
runs a hand through his hair, a finger along the edge of his wing. His antelope
ears swivel toward me, but his eyes swerve away.
“Just say it, Teakra.”
He flinches away from the venom in
my voice, and then speaks with a little venom of his own.
“Say what? That I need you? Fine! I
need you, Ravenna! I need to talk to you, to be with you…to…to,” his voice
cracks. “It’s like I’ve lost both of you.”
I’m taken aback. This is not what I
expected, not what I want.
I lost her too, you know.” His voice
is husky now, and soft with hurt. “I understand how you feel.”
I leap up. “You
don’t understand!”
His eyes
flash, and he steps closer. “Why? Is your grief so much more significant than
mine? Do you think she was more important to you? Gods, Raven, I loved her
too!”
He pulls at his hair and I remember
how it used spike under his hands from all that constant tugging. Now it flops,
lifeless, as if even his hair cannot afford to exert excess energy. As if every
inch of him is in mourning.
My anger
wilts. “No, of course not. I just want to be left alone.”
I turn
away.
“It’s not
your fault.”
My mouth tightens. I keep my back
to him.
“Ravenna.”
Tentative fingers touch my shoulder.
“Swanna wouldn’t want you to-”
I spin on my heel. “You don’t know
anything!”
“I know it’s not your fault.”
“I left her, Teakra! I left her
there to die alone, to rot alone! I could have…should have,” I pause, and then
the words rip from me, leaving me bloody and broken. “I broke my pledge,
Teakra. I didn’t even try!”
“Raven,” his eyes are warm, loving.
He reaches for me.
Doesn’t he hear what I’m saying?
Doesn’t he know that I don’t deserve comfort, and certainly not love?
With a howl of rage, I throw myself
at him. We crash in a pile of tangled limbs, and wings. I pummel his chest,
wordless screams of anger and grief exploding from me.
He doesn’t fight back. I’m
infuriated, out of my mind with wrath. I reach for his face, and he brings his
wing up, batting my arm aside. I teeter, trying to regain my balance, but he moves
quickly, catching me in his arms. Pinned to his chest, I struggle and scream. I
even bite, but he doesn’t let go.
I feel his hand snake up my neck.
He pinches me behind my ear. Hard. My cries are choked off by sudden,
uncontrollable sobs. Teakra’s wings enfold us in a tent of darkness.
I cry, my
face pressed to his chest. I cry and cry, until I think I could sail a boat
down the river of my tears. Still, Teakra holds me. His hands are warm on my
back, his wings brushing against my cheeks. I bring my own wings up, sheltering
him as he does me. I feel his tears dripping down my neck; feel his chest
heaving beneath me.
We stay
that way for a long time.
“I see her
everywhere.”
“Me too.”
“No, I
mean…she’s haunting me.”
We are
sitting side by side, underneath the pine tree.
“What?”
Teakra turns to look at me. “Why?”
I shrug. “She’s mad at me. Because
of what I did…or didn’t do. I think it’s holding her here.”
I don’t say that it’s my fault that
she can’t cross to the Great Sky, but I know he reads it in my eyes.
“You said that she told you to go, that she
didn’t ask you to keep your pledge.”
I shake my
head. “She’s so furious, so full of hate,” tears slip from my eyes, and I’m
surprised. I feel bone dry, as if I’ve cried all the liquid from my body. “I
don’t…I don’t know how to make her understand that I’m sorry.”
I jump when
something soft brushes my check. I think it’s Teakra, but he’s staring at me
with large eyes, his mouth a perfect round ‘O’.
“Swan?” he
whispers.
I lurch to
my feet, swinging my head from side to side, hands out before me as if I can
fend off her anger. Something soft and warm swirls around me.
Ravenna.
I’m undone by the sound of her
voice, more tears pour down my cheeks. “Swanna. Please forgive me.”
There is nothing to forgive.
“Please,”
I beg.
Her spirit wafts tighter, and
nestles next to my heart. I’m not angry
with you, Raven. It is the darkness in you, the hatred you feel for yourself,
that you projected onto me.
I shake my head, confused. “That
can’t be right…I felt…I felt…”
What exactly had I felt?
Forgive
yourself, Ravenna. Forgive yourself, and set me free. Perhaps you could not
free my body, but you have the power to free my soul.
The black hole in my heart
recedes, as I suddenly understand. I
have been keeping her here, but not for the reasons I assumed. She stayed for me, not because of me. She stayed to show me how to love myself, to
make sure I learned this time.
I long to keep her with me forever,
my better half, the missing piece of me, and for a moment I contemplate holding
on tighter. But I can’t do that to her. I won’t.
I let go, one clinging finger at a
time.
She leaves me, and I can’t hold
back a gasp of pain. Teakra takes a step toward me and stops. I can tell the
moment she touches him. Longing sharpens his features, making him at once ten
years older and ten years younger. I can tell when she leaves him too. It is as
if all the color, all the vibrancy drains from him, as it did from me.
Teakra and
I stand shoulder to shoulder, wing to wing, and watch as Swanna soars up into
the indigo sky, and disappears in a silver starburst. Words float down to us,
and I hear the echo of her voice as it was on the mountaintop. The same words,
the same love behind them.
Live,
sister. Live, my love. Just live.
Teakra takes my hand, and I feel
the promise in his fingers. We may be broken now, but we have each other, and
time. We will find a way to be whole again, but for now we will just live,
through this day, and then one more, and then another, and anther after. I send
my own message, through my touch to Teakra, through the sky to Swan.
I will live.
Just
live.
That is one promise I can keep.
