Kalona's Fall (House of Night Novellas #4)(9)

Well, he had successfully used Air and the power of the Divine together. And the result probably could have been viewed from the Otherworld, as well as from the sun and the moon. But Kalona didn’t believe Nyx would find the sight of splinters and dust and annoyed birds very pleasing. It certainly did not please him as miniscule fragments of the tree began raining down. Kalona was still frowning as he brushed the settling wood dust from his wings. “Air is a ridiculous element,” he muttered and then, engulfed in a cloud of wood dust, he coughed and continued brushing dust and shredded leaves from his wings.

“Oh Winged One! Great God! We beg to know your name so that we may worship you and not incur your wrath! Please do not destroy us as you did the Great Spirit Tree!”

Coughing, Kalona looked up from his wings. Squinting through the dust-laden air, he saw a group of natives dressed in leather and feathers and shells prostrating themselves on the opposite bank of the stream. He glanced behind them and stifled a sigh and another cough, tallying one more in his list of mistakes—he’d been so concentrated on the sealike grass prairie and on wielding his power that he hadn’t noticed he’d come to ground not far from a human settlement.

Kalona squared his shoulders. Covered in dust or not, he must say something to these curious and mistaken children of Mother Earth.

“I am Kalona,” he said. They cringed in fear, and he realized he must modulate the power in his voice. He cleared his throat and began anew. “I am Kalona, and I have not come to destroy you.”

“Kalona of the Silver Wings, how may we worship you?” asked the human who had first spoken. He was wrinkled and bent but bedecked in more feathers and shells than the others, and his face and bared chest were painted in ocher-colored swirls.

“No, worship is not why I am here,” Kalona said.

“But you killed the Great Spirit Tree! You are mightier than it. Now you fill the air with evidence of your power, and the ravens call to you. We plead that you not be like the trickster coyote. We will bring you chigustei and the finest of our boiled meat to eat. The most beautiful of our maidens will warm your bed and dance the Sunrise Dance for you. Just do not destroy us!”

“You do not understand. I am not—”

Kalona’s words were cut off as the dust-filled air suddenly cleared and an exquisite woman materialized. She was dressed in the purest of white leathers trimmed in blue stones, round red beads, and carved bone. Her dark hair reached past her slender waist. Her delicate feet were bare, her ankles decorated with ropes of shells so that every time she moved, she made music. Her brown skin was painted with ancient symbols in a blue so dark and rich the design seemed liquid and ever changing. Though in appearance she was totally unlike his first sight of the Goddess, Kalona immediately knew this radiant being was his Nyx.

The humans prostrated themselves again and began to cry, “Estsanatlehi!”

“Beloved Changing Woman!”

“Save us from Kalona of the Silver Wings!”

Kalona coughed once more and then hastily tried to explain, “I did not know it was their tree.”

Nyx walked toward him and took his hand, though her attention, and her beautiful dark eyes, were focused entirely on the humans.

“My people, do not fear. Kalona of the Silver Wings is not a destroyer, nor is he a god. He is my—” Nyx paused, flicking her gaze to him. Kalona was sure he saw amusement in her eyes, though she hid her smile well. “My Warrior, my Monster Slayer and my Killer of Enemies,” she concluded.

“Did the Great Spirit Tree offend you, Estsanatlehi, so that you sent your Killer of Enemies against it?” asked the feathered, painted man.

“No, Shaman. My Warrior was only making way for a new Great Spirit Tree, one that bears fruit. Behold my gift to you!” Nyx loosed Kalona’s hand and turned to face the empty black hole where the tree used to stand. She began moving her bare feet in a dance that had the rhythm of a heartbeat, accompanied by the music of the ropes of shells that decorated her ankles. “Hear me, oh Earth Mother. I am Estsanatlehi, Changing Woman, Speaker for the People. I ask that the Great Spirit Tree be reborn to bear fruit to feed the People. Hear me, oh Earth Mother. I am Estsanatlehi, Changing Woman, Speaker for the People…” Nyx repeated her song over and over, until she had danced around the black hole three full times. With the triple circle completed, she broke off one round red bead from her dress and threw it into the hole with a victorious shout.

Kalona gasped along with the humans when a tree instantly sprouted from the center of the hole, growing up and up, limbs stretching, budding, flowering, then filling out with simple leaves, bright green on the top side and silver on the underside. Kalona blinked, and the entire tree was laden with plump, red fruit.

“Harvest and share this fruit, and remember that your Goddess is not destructive or vengeful,” Nyx said, moving back to Kalona’s side. “As always, I wish you to blessed be,” she concluded. Then she slid her arms up around Kalona’s neck and whispered into his ear, “You should take me away from here now.”

Hardly able to breathe, Kalona lifted his Goddess into his arms and leaped into the air, holding her tightly as his mighty wings bore them skyward.

*   *   *

“There,” Nyx said, pointing down. The land had changed beneath them. It had begun to roll gently and was covered with clusters of tall trees. The Goddess motioned beyond the trees, toward a wide, dark river dotted with sandbanks and lined with scrub. “You may put me down there.”