Kavio

War is a dance. To dance is to fight the world and change it.

With strong punches and fast kicks, with cries and strikes from his flint spear, Kavio danced the strange and dangerous tama. It was a forbidden dance-spell, taught to him in secret. If his tribe ever caught him doing it, they would kill him.

And still, he danced.

He danced to fight the war the world had started against him. He fought the storm. He fought every fae inside the storm.

Weather did not just happen. Sometimes humans used magic to change it. But most of the time, the rain, the sunshine, the frost, and the flowers came from the will of the fae.

Most fae didn’t care about humans. Some fae were kind. Some ate human flesh. All were unpredictable.

But now… the fae had gone mad.

For three days, the storm had not stopped. Every Chroma of fae had joined in, as if all of Faerykind had declared war on humans. As if they wanted to drown every person in Rainbow Valley—maybe every human in Faearth.

Yes, it was mostly Blue watery fae who drove the freezing rain and floods. But Purple fae also danced in thunderclouds. Orange fae rode the hurricane winds. Even Yellow and Green fae, who were usually gentle, tore down trees and forced animals into deadly mudslides. Red fae, who hated rain, danced where lightning strikes hit and started fires.

Kavio had only heard stories of fae frenzy like this happening during the ancient War Between Humans and the Aelfae.

But that war is over. We won, you faery freaks, he thought. And no storm is going to take that victory from us!

The wind hit him like a scream. It howled in his ears: ALL OF YOU MUST DIE!

Kavio stumbled back in shock.

As the son of the Last Aelfae, Kavio was used to other humans being suspicious of him. They thought he might turn against them. They were jealous of his powers—his Six Chromas of magic.

But the fae usually loved him. Too much, really. They swarmed around him like friendly pests.

Not tonight.

Not these fae.

For three days, it had rained ice and hail. The water had risen so high it buried the Markers in the river. Winter storms were not strange—but not like this. Not this hard. Not this long.

Tomorrow would be the day of balance, when day and night were equal. The Spring Equinox. It was also supposed to be the day of new planting.

Still, the storm had not stopped.

Kavio had checked the secret markers. He was alarmed.

He wanted to tell the War Chief, or one of the elders. But they never believed him. They always said he was just bragging.

Maybe that’s my fault, he admitted. Stupid people annoy me. He had no patience for small minds. Everyone said he was proud. Maybe he was. But now, when he really needed their help, they wouldn’t listen.

Fine, he thought. Then I’ll stop the Hex myself.

If I don’t…

The truth was, Kavio didn’t know how far the Hex might go. But he felt a hatred buried deep in the heart of the storm. A hate that wanted to kill. An ancient hate.

It feels like a Hex meant to drown every human!

All he knew for sure was the warning his Teacher had given him: Whatever happens, you must stop the rain.

Ironic, Kavio thought. I earned my Shining Name as Rain Dancer for summoning rain!

He stood at the edge of a cliff, near a waterfall that pounded like a giant’s stomping feet. The waterfall boiled with glowing Blue yacuruna—fish-headed fae who normally lived deep under cold mountain lakes.

They were fighting. That was typical. Yacuruna loved to brawl. But today, they were out of control. They ripped up trees and threw boulders, smashing each other with full strength.

But then they saw Kavio.

When they saw what he was doing, the magic of his dance, they screamed in outrage. They could tell he was trying to tame the storm.

Why? Why would they care if he stopped the storm?

He didn’t understand.

Their hate for humans burned like fire. What insanity!

They charged at him.

Kavio laughed.

Good! Better they attack me than the valley!

He hadn’t stopped the storm—not yet. But he had changed its path.

Now, the angry fae didn’t attack the valley.

They came for Kavio.

Kavio (Spring Equinox Eve)

Dozens of wide, glowing eyes turned to look at Kavio. Their eyes were ringed with pearly anger. Their scaly arms were slick and strong. They threw their weapons at him—whole trees, torn out of the ground and snapped like twigs, and sharp boulders still wet with moss and rage. They climbed the cliff toward him, claws out, fins waving like angry river snakes.

Kavio dodged as many of the attacks as he could. What he couldn’t avoid, he destroyed. He punched with all his strength, using his Blue magic. He shoved a spear of water into a tree trunk flying at his face. The trunk exploded into a pattern of wood splinters.

He moved with care, keeping his defense inside his dance. He kept the beat.

An angry yacuruna leapt at him, screaming like a boiling geyser from the Hexlands. Kavio turned aside like a dancer, grabbed the creature’s wrist in midair, and threw it onto a flat rock. The wet smack was loud. A second one tried to grab him with a whip of water. He stomped the ground with his heel, sending out a dry shockwave that cracked the stream as it jumped. The water hissed into steam. The whip vanished with a pop.

The sky was no safer.

Purple stormcloud pamola—shaped like giant eagle-moose—went wild. Many-armed deep Blue maruts cracked lightning whips to drive them forward. When they saw Kavio on the ledge, the pamola charged.

At the same time, a group of simurghs—giant fae birds glowing with Orange Chroma magic—tried to grab him with their claws and drop him onto the rocks below.

The pamola reached him first. They were monsters filled with thunder, electric purple in color, with eagle wings as wide as sails and moose antlers glowing with violet light. They crashed through the clouds, whipped into madness by the maruts.

Kavio jumped backward off the cliff’s edge. He flipped in the air and caught a rock with one hand. The first pamola flew past where he had just been, missing him by inches. Its hooves smashed into the cliff, sending up sharp pieces of stone.

Kavio swung up with his legs, landed, and spun in a smooth arc. He threw a flash of Yellow lightning at the next creature. The bolt hit its antlers, sparking and breaking its charge. The creature turned aside, dizzy, and gave a loud cry.

But more were coming.

The maruts flew down like storms, spinning with six to eight glowing blue arms. Their whips of blue lightning cut the air with every crack. One struck at Kavio’s face. He bent back so far that his hair touched the ground. The whip passed so close to his throat he felt the burning heat.

He grunted, flipped, kicked, and spun his staff with one hand. He broke necks and crushed spines.

Each time a fae died, it turned to stone and fell down the cliff.

The break didn’t last.

Orange light burned through the clouds.

A group of simurghs flew low on a gust of wind. The giant fae birds glowed with Orange Chroma magic. Their wings didn’t ride the wind—they made it. One simurgh dived with a sharp cry, claws reaching for him.

Kavio ducked, spun low, and threw his poncho up into the air. The heat rushed over him and burned the air. As the bird flew over him, he jumped. He hooked his staff behind its leg and used its speed to lift himself into the sky.

From up high, he saw them all—pamola gathering below, maruts circling like sharks, and simurghs flying around to strike again.

Too many.

He landed on the simurgh he had grabbed—but it tried to throw him off.

It screamed and started to fly higher, wings glowing.

“Fine,” Kavio growled. “Let’s dance.”

He stabbed the point of his flint spear into the bird’s back. Sadly, the bird turned to stone at once. It dropped like a rock, throwing Kavio into the air.

He fell.

If only I could fly like my mother…

He knew how to spread his arms and poncho to catch the wind, but it wasn’t enough. Lightning spears crossed the sky. The roaring water at the base of the falls rushed toward him. The yacuruna raised their arms, laughing. They were ready to pull him under and drown him.

A pamola flew up toward him from below, its antlers shining with stormlight.

While falling, Kavio twisted. He grabbed the beast’s antlers. Low Fae weren’t very smart. The pamola shook its head, stomped, and flew toward the mountain wall, trying to scrape him off.

He jumped.

He landed hard on a small ledge. His knees bent, and his cloak smoked. A marut had almost struck him with lightning while he fell!

Kavio turned his back to the waterfall. He breathed hard. The cliff crumbled under his feet, but he stayed standing.

The storm fae had broken his dance, but he wouldn’t give up. He stomped his feet and punched the sky. He started the tama again. Loops of light moved out from each step—Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, and Purple—the Six Sacred Directions.

He danced and fought all night.

By morning, he had beaten the storm. The threads of light from his tama wrapped around the storm clouds and crushed them. The yacuruna crept back into their hidden rivers. The pamola galloped away to other clouds. The maruts flew after them. The thunder faded. The hail stopped. Only a light rain fell.

Even that dried as the sun rose. The sun was pale white on the far eastern side of the valley. The mesa where the tribehold stood was black against the sky.

Kavio dropped to one knee. Every part of his body shook.

He had stood alone all night against the wild storm of the fae. He didn’t expect to hear a human voice.

He was so tired that the voice startled him, and he almost fell.

“What have you done?”

Three men stepped out from the trees. The rain and fog had hidden their climb. Their legwals and shoulder blankets were wet, so they must have been standing in the rain before it stopped. That meant they had seen him dancing. They knew the tama was not a spell they knew. Their faces showed fear and disgust.

Two of them were elders, his old teachers—Gidio and Danumoro. The third man was younger, the same age as Kavio—his cousin, Zumo. Kavio didn’t try to explain anything to the elders. They would never listen. But he looked straight at his cousin.

“You can tell them what you saw,” Kavio said. “Zumo, you saw the battle! All the different fae driving the storm!”

Zumo’s face moved slightly.

“Tomorrow is the planting ritual,” Gidio barked, “and you called a storm that flooded the fields? Who taught you that tama? Who told you to dance it?”

“The fae attacked the valley with the storm—like they wanted to drown the tribehold—”

“I saw no fae,” Gidio snapped. “That means you made the storm with your magic!”

Danumoro looked at Zumo. “Well? What do you say? Did you see any fae?”

Kavio glared at his cousin. "You know the truth. If you keep your secret, you betray me."

Zumo looked away. He shrugged. That meant he saw nothing. But he gave Kavio a quick, nervous look.

I could betray you too, you coward, Kavio thought. But I promised I would keep your cursed secret.

“Kavio, I accuse you of hexcraft,” said Gidio. “The punishment is death!”

“There must be a trial,” Danumoro said. But sadness filled his eyes. Softly, he asked, “Kavio, what have you done?”

Dindi (Spring Equinox Dawn)

“Help me! Please help!”

Dindi woke with a start. She heard it clearly—a small but desperate voice. It was high-pitched and cute.

A neko flew into the loft where Dindi slept with her two clan sisters. The little purple faery was bigger than a pixie, but smaller than a sprite. Her skin was pale lavender. She had dark purple cat ears and a long cat tail. Her legs were just like a cat’s.

She was terribly cute. Neko faeries were not good fliers. Usually, they rode on real cats and helped them hunt mice.

But this one flew like a fat, silly bee. She meowed in fear as she made wavy circles in the air.

When the neko saw Dindi staring back, she cried, “I know you can see me! You’re the only one who can help!”

Faeries were usually invisible. But they could let people see them, if they wanted.

I don’t know why they always bother me, thought Dindi.

Her two clan-sisters, Jensi and Tibi, kept snoring. They didn’t hear the neko’s cries. But Dindi couldn’t ignore the voice.

She climbed out of the loft to follow her.

Maybe this is why they always come to me, she thought with a sigh. I always fall for it!

Dindi climbed down a cut log. Goats below bleated maaa-maaaa! on the ground floor. She sneaked past the squash patch and the bean poles.

The neko flew around her in circles, squeaking and waving for her to hurry.

She escaped just in time.

The aunties of the Lost Swan Clan were waking up. Great Aunt Sullana, the clan grandmother—and the scariest woman in the clan—stomped toward the goat shed. She shouted out the chores.

“Jensi! You’ll skin the fish and make the spice sauce! Tibi, you’ll milk the goats and help your mother grind corn! Dindi, gather berries and juice them—we need more soap too—take the lard from the kitchen! You may go as far as the berry patch and the stream, but DO NOT PASS THE CLAN MARKERS! Finish your chores or you MAY NOT go to Barter’s Hill today!”

Jensi and Tibi rushed out of the goat shed. They washed their faces and arms with water from the big clay vase. They helped each other brush and braid their hair. They wrapped their chest bands—long cloth strips to hold their breasts—and tied on their buckskin legwals.

“Good, girls… you’re awake,” said Great Aunt Sullana. “It’s an important day… WHERE IS DINDI?”

Sorry, Great Aunt Sullana! I’ll do my chores later, Dindi giggled to herself. I just have something more important to do first… I just wish I knew what it was!

She skipped after the faery. The neko led her past the maize terraces and far up the path into the hills.

Morning fog covered the mountains. A flock of Blue sylphs flew past her. Their long, see-through shawls trailed cold, shining mist behind them. They chilled the air as they passed.

They were probably heading to their secret homes underground to sleep through the day. After they left, the fog would lift.

Dindi had forgotten to wash her face. Her hair was a mess. She wore two small braids in front and a ponytail at the back. Her brown hair was already tangled when she woke up and now it was worse.

She still wore yesterday’s chest band. She hadn’t even put on her legwals. She only wore a hip belt, a loincloth, and her usual arm-bands and leg-bands.

But there was no time to stop. The neko kept squeaking, “Please hurry! We may be too late!”

Lost Swan Clanhold had eleven white adobe huts. There were some bigger buildings with kilns, and small huts for sleeping or keeping animals. Each house was painted with colorful patterns. The roofs were thatched. The lower floors were underground. The door was on the second floor, reached by a ladder log, with a flap of aurochs cow-hide for a door.

Some men were up now, striking flint to sharpen spear tips. Others got ready to fish, with carved bone hooks and dead beetles for bait. There would be a big feast at middle meal.

But if anyone had told Dindi why, she didn’t remember. She didn’t really care either.

“Dindi, please hurry!” groaned the neko.

I’m not supposed to talk to the fae, even if they show themselves. I’m not supposed to follow them. Everyone told Dindi that. But how can I say no to someone who needs help… even if she is a faery?