“What Have You Done?!”

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?”

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