Dear Readers,
I have decided to begin a new series. These are historical songs from Krindarwee tapestries, weavings that became lost over time. Later some of these were found in a cave. Since there are so few of them, I will only publish one a month. If I find more, I will be sure to share them with you.
Jannoly. Compliments of http://www.raptorresearchfoundation.org/education/raptor-world
END OF CHANGING
by Patricia Renard Scholes
Somewhere, during the passage of time, I’ve also lost my name, the Naji thought, as puzzled as always.
The old man sat on a sun-warmed rock atop the cliff above their village and stared past the cloudless, violet sky bright with hot sun. He came up here often, more now that the village no longer needed him. It was an important place that touched his soul, but the reason for its importance continued to escape him. Today, perhaps he would remember. He let his thoughts fly free, fetters loosened.
Above him an eagle circled, screaming, capturing his attention. A skin-memory of cooler breezes that flowed across the mountaintops startled him. For that instant he felt the wind against his face, and a whiff of desert scrub seasoned with the sharp scent of rodent blood.
His eyes followed the eagle, but his mind explored the unexpected memory. It rode the air currents from cliff edge to mountain crag, he watching—until he knew: he had done this!
Trembling, the old man rose from the rock as memory after memory tumbled over him, gathering momentum, becoming a landslide.
Even his name returned to him. Jannoly. He tasted its flavor, and found it to his liking. After all these years!
Unable to stand under the weight of it all, he sank back to the rock beneath him. He raised one arm to his side, studying it, wondering if he still retained the talents of his youth. Feathers—
“Naji! Naji!”
Village youngers rushed upon him, interrupting his experiment.
“Sing to us! Sing a song of great deeds!”
Perhaps he would sing the song of Drinni who had brought them the knowledge of fire, or Bormellu who had researched the art of clothing. Or maybe he would sing of Lledl, tool-fashioner, or Maedu the Unfortunate, the one who had studied, then taught the use of weapons.
Jannoly, however, knew the song needing voice. Yet he was reluctant. He questioned the wisdom of letting the youngers know who they had once been.
~ ~ ~
Jannoly ranged far. His wings took him beyond the forested valley of home to the waving plains. There was so much of the world to see! The Naji’s songs were not enough any longer, not for a youth who longed to see their reality.
Something glistened in the rich grassland. Was it a lake? No Naji had sung of water placed here, of a lake lacking a stream to feed it. He plunged down for a closer look.
The huge silvery body was not water at all, he realized in a squawk of surprise. An enormous egg rested on the short-grass prairie. He could not imagine the immense creature that must have laid it. More curious than afraid, he swooped over its upper surface, crying his delight at his find. This was the stuff of songs!
Finally, not too far away, he rested on a lone tree to watch, and let his form relax. Soon the heat of the sun would crack the egg, he was sure, and he would be the first to see the younger within its shell.
Eventually a strange fissure appeared on its silver surface, rectangular, not a crack at all. As the seam widened it also moved outward until it formed a tongue to the ground. Astonished, he watched not one or two, but many beings pour out of the shiny ovoid, down the tongue and onto the grass.
Animals? Certainly like animals, they all bore the same shape. Of course, if they were youngers they wouldn’t yet know how to imitate other lifeforms. Littlest youngers seemed to be all head when they were born, he reminded himself. Yet these beings had well-developed arms and legs, and they were already walking—in a strange, upright position. And they wore a loose, removable skin, he noted as one of them took off the skin of an upper torso.
He watched them for long hours, carefully observing their behavior before he came to the conclusion that these were not youngers at all, nor even animals. They were some other kind of being. At long last Jannoly stretched himself from his tree branch, sprouted feathers again, and leaped upward to catch an air current. He squawked with excitement as he circled the creatures one last time. Several turned to stare at him before he flew away to tell the Naji everything he had seen.
The Naji communed in the center of a grove of elders. One of them nodded his massive branches as he contemplated the whisperings of the tree-forms around him. A parent, fazed herself into a furry hulk with teeth and claws to restore order to two squabbling youngers below her.
The flying youth paid little attention. He wasn’t an elder yet, but he had grown far beyond the two smaller youngers now settled by their parent’s swat. Perching in the Naji’s branches, he began to relate what he had seen, in a series of cries and screeches, his wings fluttering in animation.
“Quiet,” the Naji told him, with more than a little irritation. “One would hardly know you from Aessia’s youngers. Try a more sedate form. There is great nourishment from the soil, Jannoly.”
“But I don’t think they were animals,” he protested, affronted. “They carried things, and could remove their skins. And, after watching them, I’m sure they weren’t youngers, even though they all wore the same shape. Could they be a new form?”
“Everlife has made all the forms there are.” The Naji seemed puzzled. “But a person should never limit Everlife to what we know. There must be greater variety than we have previously believed. I must see this egg-not-an-egg and the creatures who have emerged from it.” He pulled up his roots to investigate, slowly, for they had gone very deep.
Never having experienced true danger, the whole community was curious about the newcomers. A flurry of shimmering and fazing followed as others prepared to join the Naji in greeting. After all, if the new ones were not animals, they would need to be welcomed. It was what one did for traveling elders. These people may have come from very far away. Ah, the songs they would sing!
The feeling of celebration vibrated in the air as the community, each one proudly wearing a favorite imitation, trailed the Naji to the plain where the youth had seen the strangers. The youth himself, preferring the open skies, soared on ahead. Behind him he heard the people as they walked, ran, leaped, galloped, trotted, padded and flew, filling the air, and each other’s minds, with happy chatter.
At first, the strange new beings froze in stunned silence when they saw the horde of creatures pouring toward them. The youth felt a wave of fear, nearly tangible, coming from them. But he never thought to scream a warning. Were not his people the Chosen of Everlife?
One of the strangers carried a bulky stick. Jannoly did not think it a greeting when the being raised it toward the leading figure, and he turned toward the Naji to caution him. But the community’s leader had chosen the form of a majestic stag of great age. The Naji’s presence so impressed him, he held his tongue to see how the strangers would respond.
No one expected what happened. Lightning flashed from the stick, severing the Naji’s proud head from its body.
Other strangers raised their sticks, and this time Jannoly did scream, but his warning came too late. The people rushed into the slaughter.
The not-animals threw many bolts of lightning. Thunder bellowed. Feathers charred. Flesh burned. Blood flowed from painful wounds. Nerves and bones shattered.
The aliens approached the dead and dying cautiously, but they approached. To the horror of those who watched, the beings actually skinned and gutted those they had slaughtered.
The youth flew in ever-widening circles, shocked at the carnage below him. Not animals, he thought. Monsters.
The killing did not stop. The not-animals seemed unable to tell the difference between the original animals and those who imitated their forms. Many people died, killed for food, shelter, tools and clothing. Other elders, thinking to hide in the valley’s forest, took on the forms of the great trees. But the aliens cut them down for fences, paper, walls and firewood, unaware that some of the trees screamed as they died. Death sickened the air.
The following year, an elder by default, Jannoly led the remnant of his people from the lush valley, where game—and people—had once been abundant, into the desert beyond the grasslands. Not only did the not-animals avoid the desert, they abhorred the life-forms found there. Unmolested, the people could slither, scratch, scrabble and claw their way after the young elder they called their new Naji.
When they reached the base of the cliff that was to shelter their home, the young leader changed his form. He shortened his neck and snout, pulled his tail into his torso. His legs and arms lengthened. Scales smoothed into brown skin, and claws became fingers and toes.
The people gasped. “Abomination!” some shouted.
“Those beings do not seem to slaughter their own kind,” he explained, trying to keep his voice steady. “Neither will they slay this imitation, for they cannot see or hear beyond their eyes and ears.”
Angry murmurs rumbled around him.
“But this form is weak,” he continued as if he had not heard. “We will not have access to sharp teeth or ripping claws, so we must learn to use tools. This form also holds heat poorly. We will need clothing especially at night. And shelters to protect us from the winter rainstorms and the summer windstorms.”
“You’ve tried it before!” someone shouted, horrified.
“To teach it I must try it,” he reminded the caller.
“But to master such ugliness!”
“Further—“ Jannoly’s voice broke. He struggled for control. “Furthermore, we must erase from our minds the knowledge of many forms. Our children must be born and die knowing only this.”
The crowd drew back as he demonstrated the male, then the female versions of the body.
“My people, I am sorry to ask you to do such a bitter thing, you who were the Chosen of Everlife.” It seems as if Everlife has chosen others in our place, he added, but from within the silence of his heart. He would not be so cruel to repeat his thoughts aloud. “But where once we were many, now we are few.”
Their protests died. One by one they shimmered into the alien form. As each one came forward, he touched its head as if in blessing, erasing the knowledge of changing.
Later, alone on the top of the cliff, Jannoly had touched his own head, knowing his would be an imperfect erasure. He needed another to make him forget permanently, but there was no one. Afterwards he found himself coming often to this high place to search for what he had lost.
~ ~ ~
The youngers stared, speechless at first, as the last notes of the old Naji’s song faded.
“We were…“ one began.
“We are…“ said another.
But the old man’s eyes had once again fixed on the lavender sky. There was one thing left to do. He did not notice the youngers watching in amazement.
Little by little, for he had almost forgotten how, he began to shrink; feet became talons; arms spread into wings; feathers covered his body. Finally, with a shriek of joy, he launched himself into the purple sky, flapping his wings until he found a friendly air current.
The Naji, no longer young, glided toward the aliens’ city. The long flight would have tired a youth. It exhausted the old Naji. His whole body trembled with fatigue.
Just as he reached the city, a downdraft caught him. He fluttered, then lost control completely and crashed into the side of a building.
Vainly he searched for enough energy to return into alien form. These beings must know what they had done to his people. But his body was broken. He could scarcely breathe.
Shadows approached. Youngers, he recognized sadly. He had hoped for a crowd of elders.
“I’ll bet this is the biggest eagle ever!” one of the boys shouted.
“He’s big, all right,” a smaller boy agreed, stroking a feather. “D’you thing Mama can make him well again?”
“Dunno.” A couple of the older boys tried to move him.
“He’s heavy,” one complained.
“You guys gonna watch, or help?”
“Hey,” the youngest whispered. He smoothed the feathers on the eagle’s head. “I think he’s crying.”
END
