A Dance of Dragons: Series Starter Bundle (8 page)

There.

A shimmer. A dull glow. And now that she saw
it, the light brightened and Jinji smiled. The spirits were still
there for her.

For as long as she could remember, Jinji
could see them. Everywhere. In everything. Minute strands of green,
red, yellow, and blue, twining together to create the world. Earth,
air, water, and fire spirits hidden in plain sight for no one but
Jinji to see, and sometimes they tried hiding even from her. But
not today. Not when she needed them.

Jinji studied the weaving strands, looking
through the intricate patterns she would never begin to understand.
And there she saw what she had truly been searching for: the space
between the elements, the pure white wisps binding the colorful
strands together—the mother spirit, the source of everything.

Jinjiajanu.

That was the name her people gave it. Her
brother and she were named for it. But as far as Jinji knew, she
was the only one who could manipulate it.

Closing her eyes, Jinji cupped her hands
into a ball, envisioning the pearly glow between the strands of air
she had trapped.

Jinjiajanu
, she thought. The image
changed to that of a face that was stolen ten years before.

Jinjiajanu. Bring Janu back to me—bring my
other half back.

She opened her hands, facing them out toward
the open air, keeping her eyes closed, using her memory to draw a
picture in the wind. His tanned skin, the color of freshly exposed
bark. His deep brown irises set in wide eyes and framed with full
lashes. His smile, always mischievous and often taking over the
whole expanse of his face.

She imagined him taller and broader than he
had been as a boy, with muscles hardened from long hunts. The frame
of a sixteen-year-old man. The frame of her twin as he would be if
he were standing with her today.

After a minute, Jinji dropped her hands and
let her eyes ease open. No matter how many times she wove the
illusion, her heart stopped at the sight and a lump caught in her
throat.

Janu. How I miss you.

Jinji rose and standing next to her, vivid
as a real man but unnaturally still, was her brother. Her fingers
brushed his, passing through his hand, as she knew they would. He
was, after all, an illusion made of spirits. But still, she always
tried to touch him, hoping to meet resistance just once.

Jinji could manipulate jinjiajanu, but no
one could bring the dead back to life.

"Janu," she said softly, pleading. "What are
you trying to tell me?"

But there was no answer. She could make his
lips move, could make it look as though he were alive, but this
wasn't her brother.

Jinji let the illusion fall and, in the
blink of an eye, it had disappeared. The elemental spirits snapped
back into their proper place, and their subtle glow faded out. She
was alone once more with only the trees to keep her company.

A knot hardened in her stomach, a sense of
fear she couldn't dislodge.

The last time she dreamed of the shadow, she
had woken in a fright and turned to rouse her brother only to find
him missing from their shared pallet. Immediately, she shook her
father awake. Using his authority as chief, he woke the hunters and
charged into the woods. But the minute she had turned to see Janu
missing, Jinji knew that he was gone forever. When the hunters
returned holding the carcass of a great bear followed by her father
cradling a pouch that dripped with blood, she had fallen to the
ground—devastated but not surprised. She heard her mother wail and
felt the ground rumble as she dropped, but Jinji's eyes saw only a
great shadow waiting to swallow her whole.

And now it had returned. On the day she was
meant to be joined with Maniuk, to be named the future leaders of
their people, the Arpapajo tribe—the last remaining
oldworlders.

Dread rippled down her limbs.

What did it all mean?

"Jinji? Are you there?"

She turned to see her dearest friend, Leoa,
push a tree branch aside and step into the clearing.

"I thought maybe…" Leoa trailed off, shaking
her head and glancing at the ground before meeting Jinji's eyes
again. Her friend's face warmed, nervous creases smoothed out, and
a grin lifted the left side of her lip. "What are you doing?"

Jinji took a deep breath, trying to relax.
"Thinking of Janu."

Leoa nodded, understanding dawning in her
eyes. She stepped closer, placing her warm palm on Jinji's
shoulder. "He would want you to be happy. Maniuk was his
friend."

Jinji nodded.

Maybe that was it. Maybe she was just
nervous, just wishing for her brother on such an important day in
her life, just afraid that the joining would give her another man
to lose.

She sighed and her shoulders slumped as she
pushed the shadow from her mind and glanced at her friend again.
The knot in her stomach still curled uncomfortably tight, but there
was no use in trying to untie it now.

"Are you here to take me back to my mother?"
Jinji asked, already thinking of all she needed to do before the
ceremony began, especially of her braid.

Leoa shifted and it was then that Jinji
noticed the stark white skins on her friend's arm, almost as pure
as jinjiajanu in color.

Her gown.

The edges had been tied into hundreds of
knots decorated with dried berries. Feathers of all hues were woven
through the fabric, shimmering in the sun, changing colors with
each minute move of Leoa's arm. Twine had been specially dyed just
so the ancient ceremonial patterns could be woven in, patterns
Jinji didn't even truly understand.

She had seen her mother painstakingly work
on every inch of the garment, had watched as she laid it on the
drying rack to bleach in the sun every day and brought it inside to
clean and embroider every night.

Everyone in their tribe would eventually
wear exquisite leathers to their joining, but none would ever be as
fine as the one Jinji's mother had prepared. Yet the sight of it
just made the knot in Jinji's stomach tighten.

She looked up just in time to catch the
concern in Leoa's eyes.

"What's wrong, Jinji?"

"Nothing."

"Is it Maniuk? Did something happen?" She
stepped closer, but Jinji moved away. It was ridiculous to be so
concerned with a dream, absolutely ridiculous.

"No, of course not. He's a friend. He'll be
a great leader."

"And so will you."

Jinji nodded absently. She had been born to
lead her people; it was the only thing she knew how to do. No, that
was not the cause of her anxiety.

"I know what's wrong," Leoa said with a
smirk and stepped toward the edge of the clearing to lay Jinji's
dress neatly on the grass. She held out her hands and cleared her
throat. "You're going to miss me. That's what this is all
about."

Jinji smiled. "Yes, Leoa, this is all about
you."

"I knew it." She straightened her hands
again, urging Jinji to take them. "But I know just the thing to
help." She impatiently shook her fingertips one more time. Knowing
not to disobey her friend, Jinji obliged and held on.

The smirk on Leoa's face widened. From years
of experience, Jinji knew exactly what that look meant.

"One," Leoa said.

"Two," Jinji laughed, her mood already
lifting.

"Three," they said in unison, completing the
routine. And then they were off, spinning in circles like the
center of a great storm. Jinji gripped Leoa's hands tighter and
shuffled her feet to the left, trying not to fall. Their weight
pulled them apart, but still they held on, straining to stay
connected.

The world was a blur, rushing behind Leoa's
face in a daze of colors that Jinji couldn't unwind. Her smile
widened, pushing against her cheeks, straining her muscles so that
they hurt in a good way—a way they hadn't in a while. And suddenly,
the joining seemed far off. She was a child with her best friend,
feeling girlish and untouched. The pressure of growing up had
fallen from her shoulders, thrown off by the force of her sudden
glee.

And then it was over.

In a heartbeat, Jinji's fingers slipped free
of Leoa's, and she was thrown to the side, landing on the ground
with an
oomph
.

But giggles invaded her senses before the
pain took any toll, and she rolled to her side, shaking
uncontrollably with an innocent joy that pushed itself out into the
world because there was simply no way to contain it. So she let it
go and unknowingly let her fears go with it.

"That was fun," Leoa said when the silence
returned.

"It was," Jinji said, glancing over her
shoulder with a contented sigh. Like always, Leoa had known exactly
what she needed.

"Are you ready now?"

"I am," Jinji said and slowly sat up. She
brought her hand to her hair, running her fingers through the long,
ebony tresses, already missing them when she had reached the end.
But before Jinji could make another move, her palm was slapped
away.

"I'll do that," Leoa said, taking over the
job of weeding out the knots, "just enjoy it. You're finally
getting your braid." Her friend's voice was wistful, but to Jinji,
this was the worst part of the joining.

Her braid.

She would miss the wind flowing through her
hair, the way it moved with the spirits. She would miss the feel of
it floating around her face when she dove deep down into a stream.
But mostly, she would miss the feeling that it was hers alone, a
part of her that belonged to no one else—not yet.

Her future belonged to her tribe. Her past
belonged to her brother. Her essence belonged to the spirits. But
her hair, as unimportant as it seemed, still belonged to her.

But soon it would belong to Maniuk, to their
family, and to her people. No longer would it flow freely down her
back, curling in soft tendrils down her spine. No, after sixteen
years of freedom, it would be bound for the rest of her life. One
strand for Maniuk, one strand for their future children, and one
strand for the tribe—three parts braided together to show she had
matured into adulthood and had left her carefree childhood behind.
It would never be cut or undone, not unless it needed to be.

Jinji had only seen her mother unbraided
once. When Janu passed, she had cut one strand of her braid off to
be burned with his body, a symbol that their bond had been broken.
She let her hair free until the cut strands had grown even with the
other two portions and were ready to be braided again, a sign that
her heart had healed.

Jinji touched the tips of her silky locks.
No, if she was going to be braided, she hoped it would be
forever.

"You're usually quiet," Leoa said,
continuing to run her fingers through Jinji's untamable hair, "but
usually I can tell what's going on in your head."

"I'm just thinking."

"I should be used to that by now. All this
thinking you do, it always seems exhausting. More exhausting than
all the talking I always do. I wonder what would happen if we
changed places for once."

"I would grow hoarse, and you would grow
bored."

Jinji was sure Leoa's pause was from rolling
her eyes.

"Then I'll keep talking…" She tapped her
fingers along Jinji's back, something Leoa always did when she was
thinking, or more accurately, scheming.

"Hmm," she said after a minute—an idea had
sparked to life, something Jinji probably wouldn't like. "Maniuk is
so handsome, don't you think? Have you seen how far he can throw
the spears? How easily he can wrestle the other men to the ground?
So strong, a great warrior, and well," her voice dipped lower, "I'm
sure a great lover, too."

"Leoa!" Jinji tried to turn, but her friend
gripped her shoulders, keeping her straight so her hair remained
still.

"Don't tell me you haven't thought about it,
with the joining so close. I know he has. I've seen him watching
you."

"We're friends," Jinji growled, her face
burning.

"Well, soon you'll be a lot more than that,
and I want to hear all about it, but for now, the braiding."

"Is my mother coming?" Jinji asked,
surprised they were not returning to the village before beginning
the preparations.

"She knew you wouldn't want everyone around
to watch. That's why she sent me to find you."

Jinji smiled, sending her thank you to the
spirits since her mother was not there to hear. The last thing she
needed was the scrutiny of the elders, picking over her flaws,
telling her how to sit and stand and walk and speak. No, it was
much better this way.

"I'm glad."

"Me too. Now," Leoa started and then
separated the first third of Jinji's hair, placing it gently over
her right shoulder, "for your joined."

"Taikeno," Jinji whispered, repeating the
word in their native language, the one that had been stolen from
them hundreds of years ago when the newworlders had taken over the
land. But still, there were some things that could only be said in
Arpapajo words. Some things only the ancient words could really
express.

Leoa took the next third and draped it over
Jinji's left shoulder. "For your children."

"Ka'shasten," Jinji responded, closing her
eyes and saying it like a prayer.

Leoa gathered the remaining locks, tugging
gently on them while she said, "For your people."

"Arpapajona." Jinji bowed her head, bringing
her palms together, trying to catch the words and fuse them into
the spirits around her.

As she wove the three parts together, Leoa
began to hum. Following the rhythm, Jinji let her hands dance,
weaving the words and the spirits together in an invisible braid,
copying her friend's movements in a personal prayer.

Taikeno.

Ka'shasten.

Arpapajona.

Jinji repeated the words again and again in
her mind, turning them into a song. A song of hope for a future
that was happier than her past.