Ficlet, Medinn: Dance
Thunder for me is inevitably the same thing: Kemar. I have missed thunder; don't know if I'm imagining or if there really is less of it here now. Kemar misses thunder, too.
This is sometime before what I think of as the main story, a bit after the market scene.
Dance
The thunder in Medinn was not like the thunder he remembered from when he was a child. Then, thunder had been an all-encompassing thing, reaching from horizon to horizon to shake the world to its roots; Tahan-Het stamping his feet on the clouds like the mighty warrior he was. Kemar had imagined it was the Jackal dancing, before he heard about Tahan-Het. The Jackal dancing and throwing his lightning-spears, hunting or playing or trying to impress Het-Assam or all of this at once. They had gone out, on the plains, to dance with him. They beat their drums and their feet, shaking their bodies and crying out, the rain washing their sweat away, letting them dance longer. They were never louder than the thunder, never larger than the sky, but they could feel it to their bones.
Thunder on the plains had been a time of celebration. It meant gifts of water and life, animals gathering to be hunted. To Kemar, the best thing had always been to dance with the Jackal.
In Medinn, thunder was kept at bay with houses thick as rocks, with the noise of the city and the patter of rain on rooftops. It was too small to really let the Jackal in, to allow for Tahan-Het; he could not fit to step and stomp and leap here, his spears found no room. Kemar still danced, but the Jackal was no longer around him, the thunder only brushing him like the hand of a lover, not embracing him to move his body.
He had almost forgotten how large thunder should feel, now; he had danced in the dust of Medinn for so long the city felt bigger than the sky itself.
Now he took the ashes of his braids, the promise of his life, and climbed the tallest building he could access - not an easy find, with the dogs around, and the fear of discovery wore him worse than the climb. On the top, he unfolded the piece of cloth and shook it into the wind. It lifted the ashes and whirled them over the edge of the roof, across the city and towards what little could be seen of the plains from here. Kemar closed his eyes and imagined they would reach free land, that a small piece of him would always live there, even after he had died. The wind blew cool against his back, brushing his newly-short hair into his face. The world lay in shadow, but there was a light still on the plains. He turned to look and saw dark clouds boiling in across Medinn, coming from the distant glitter of sea. The wind smelled alien but felt like freedom, and when the thunder rolled his heart leaped to greet it.
He had no drums here, could find no song, but as the storm raged over Medinn Kemar danced, and in his bones he felt the joy of the Jackal, the strength of Tahan-Het and the vastness of the sky, and knew the pact was sealed.
There was no room for them in Medinn, but he could take them into himself and together they could dance the entire city into rubble.
This is sometime before what I think of as the main story, a bit after the market scene.
Dance
The thunder in Medinn was not like the thunder he remembered from when he was a child. Then, thunder had been an all-encompassing thing, reaching from horizon to horizon to shake the world to its roots; Tahan-Het stamping his feet on the clouds like the mighty warrior he was. Kemar had imagined it was the Jackal dancing, before he heard about Tahan-Het. The Jackal dancing and throwing his lightning-spears, hunting or playing or trying to impress Het-Assam or all of this at once. They had gone out, on the plains, to dance with him. They beat their drums and their feet, shaking their bodies and crying out, the rain washing their sweat away, letting them dance longer. They were never louder than the thunder, never larger than the sky, but they could feel it to their bones.
Thunder on the plains had been a time of celebration. It meant gifts of water and life, animals gathering to be hunted. To Kemar, the best thing had always been to dance with the Jackal.
In Medinn, thunder was kept at bay with houses thick as rocks, with the noise of the city and the patter of rain on rooftops. It was too small to really let the Jackal in, to allow for Tahan-Het; he could not fit to step and stomp and leap here, his spears found no room. Kemar still danced, but the Jackal was no longer around him, the thunder only brushing him like the hand of a lover, not embracing him to move his body.
He had almost forgotten how large thunder should feel, now; he had danced in the dust of Medinn for so long the city felt bigger than the sky itself.
Now he took the ashes of his braids, the promise of his life, and climbed the tallest building he could access - not an easy find, with the dogs around, and the fear of discovery wore him worse than the climb. On the top, he unfolded the piece of cloth and shook it into the wind. It lifted the ashes and whirled them over the edge of the roof, across the city and towards what little could be seen of the plains from here. Kemar closed his eyes and imagined they would reach free land, that a small piece of him would always live there, even after he had died. The wind blew cool against his back, brushing his newly-short hair into his face. The world lay in shadow, but there was a light still on the plains. He turned to look and saw dark clouds boiling in across Medinn, coming from the distant glitter of sea. The wind smelled alien but felt like freedom, and when the thunder rolled his heart leaped to greet it.
He had no drums here, could find no song, but as the storm raged over Medinn Kemar danced, and in his bones he felt the joy of the Jackal, the strength of Tahan-Het and the vastness of the sky, and knew the pact was sealed.
There was no room for them in Medinn, but he could take them into himself and together they could dance the entire city into rubble.