Markswoman (Asiana #1)(16)
“We forget that Ture-asa was just a man,” said Shirin Mam. “He was a wise man and a king, but he was not God. Nor was he a mouthpiece of the Ones. He wrote the Kanun just over eight hundred fifty years ago, long after the Ones had returned to the sky. He foresaw the emergence of the Orders from the chaos that reigned after the Great War, but he did not foresee how kalishium would dwindle, and how the ability to use it would vanish over time. Who still lives now who can forge a true katari?”
Shirin Mam fell silent, her face shadowed. Then she raised her head and fixed her gaze on Kyra. “Doubt is not your enemy. Face your doubts and fears so you can understand yourself better. Work hard—harder than you ever have before—and you will begin to chip away at the distance between you and the more advanced Markswomen.” Her tone became brisk. “This brings me to the reason I have called you here tonight. I want to take you to Anant-kal, the world beyond time.”
“What is this place, Mother?” asked Kyra, with a sinking feeling. “How come I’ve never heard of it?”
“It is the world as perceived by our kalishium blades,” said Shirin Mam. “The ability to enter it unaided is quite rare. I myself have done it several times, but I am the exception. As you will be.”
Kyra swallowed. “And how exactly do you get there?”
“When we bond with our blades at the end of the coming-of-age trial, it opens up a bridge that most Markswomen will never see. Cross that bridge and you enter Anant-kal.”
“So it’s an actual place?”
“It’s real enough, but not in the physical sense,” said Shirin Mam. “You’ll understand what I mean once you’ve walked there. You must enter the second-level meditative trance to find the bridge to Anant-kal. We can try this right now. I will help you.”
A bubble of apprehension rose in Kyra’s chest. She didn’t want to go to this Anant place, whatever it was. It sounded eerie—a place that was real, but not in the physical sense. Wasn’t that the same thing as a dream? She had enough to deal with at night without seeking more strangeness in her waking hours. “But I have not yet achieved second-level meditation,” she protested.
Shirin Mam waved a dismissive hand. “You will achieve it today,” she said. “Too much food and sleep binds us to our bodies. Missing a meal or two can help, especially if you’ve never done it before.”
Kyra blinked at the Mahimata. So she had made her miss dinner on purpose.
“Close your eyes and empty your mind.” A thin, cool hand closed on Kyra’s. “The only barrier is the one that you create yourself. Why so attached to this limited body? Why so fond of this restless mind? Let it go; let it all go, until only the real you remains.”
“The real me?” echoed Kyra, bewildered.
“That which is timeless and beyond the constraints of the physical world,” said Shirin Mam. “It is the real you that I call for. Come, walk with me.”
Kyra closed her eyes and was surprised at how easily she slipped into the first-level meditative trance. Shirin Mam had helped her in some way, but it felt natural. She relaxed and breathed. What had she been afraid of? She couldn’t remember. The light-headedness she’d been feeling from lack of sleep and food morphed into a warm, hazy sensation.
Shirin Mam’s voice, gentle yet commanding: “Remember what it was like when you held your katari for the first time. Remember katari-mu-dai, the moment you laid your lips on the blade and welcomed it into your soul. Focus on the bond you have with your blade.”
Kyra slipped deeper into the trance, and the world dimmed. Her blade shone in front of her, a silvery green beacon glowing with intention. How beautiful it was. The light bobbed ahead of her, beckoning. Kyra followed. As she moved, the light moved too. It darted ahead and she had to run to keep up with it. Beside her, and a little behind, she sensed Shirin Mam keeping pace with her.
The fog cleared. The light of her katari grew bigger and brighter until it was a blaze. The blaze elongated into the shape of a door—a rectangular opening of light in a dark world—and Kyra ran toward it without thinking, knowing only that she must go through the door of light before it closed.
She emerged on a grassy cliff perched under a deep blue sky. Blinded by the sudden sun, she gasped and reeled, reaching out for something to hold on to, but falling to her knees instead.
A long, narrow bridge curved impossibly over a dark canyon. At the other end of the bridge, a vast city sparkled in the sunlight. It was unlike anything she had ever seen or dreamed.
Kyra crawled to the edge of the canyon and peered down. Her heart lurched at the sight of the yawning abyss below. Shading her eyes against the sun, she looked up.
Gleaming metal towers that appeared to be holding up the heavens.
Gigantic white domes resting on fluted columns.
A disc-shaped structure hanging unsupported in the sky, like a strange moon.
She closed her eyes but there was no escape from what she had seen. It followed her still, deeply familiar, yet utterly alien.
“What is it?” she managed to croak. “What is it, Mother?”
And Shirin Mam’s voice, tinged with sadness: “I wish I knew.”
Kyra began to sob. She couldn’t help herself. Sunlight shimmered on the gossamer bridge, the tall towers, and the white domes. But the glittering city was empty of life. There was nothing but cold, dead beauty.