It didn't take Kaalnia long to reach the crowd that had gathered at the ferry. She took her place them, silent as a stand of Tale trees, as the boat procession landed and the bodies of the dead – swaddled in the funeary wrappings used to clothe the dead for their journey home – were offloaded onto the land of their birth.
Only moments before, Kaalnia had been resting after a long morning of reading about death rituals in the scrolls she was collecting. But then she had seen, out on the water, the funeral procession approaching with their boats, and she could rest no more. Now, she watched, aware of the irony.
She watched as, gently and respectfully,the bodies were carried along the well worn path that traversed the island on great stretchers that required two women on each end to hold. The path would eventually lead to the bridge between Ekene and Amara, and the sacred grounds near Aisha. That would be where the dead would be consecrated and sent to their final rest in the sea. Kaalnia knew the ritual well by now, having helped when the first battle had sent a good many Alkidikes home in a similar way. As she followed the procession with the rest of the crowd, she thought of the aftermath of that battle, and of the many Earthling dead she and Votzhem had escorted to their homes at the icy edge of Tendaji. Then, as now, the bodies were returning home.
The crowd paid their respects until the narrow, well-kept bridge between the two isles, when by necessity they had to disperse and let the procession continue on to the sacred grounds alone. Kaalnia, however, followed the procession quietly, her mood returning to a more somber tone.
The sacred forests of Ekene was as quiet as the crowd had been, the silent vigil of the trees broken only by rustling in their branches, as if they wept. Finally, the procession set the bodies down, in the shade of the trees, re-covering them with shrouds that had slipped slightly during their journey.
Kaalnia stepped up to one of the elders, an aquaintence of hers named Oshha, attending to the task of getting the fallen warriors settled. “Hey.” she said bluntly, “Can I help.”
The elder blinked. “Ah. I was... actually going to ask you.” she looked out over the deceased warriors, her face creased with grief, “There is much to be done to prepare even one for their rest, and there are five... and after the first battle...” she sighed, “We will need any able and knowledgeable help we can get.”
“Well, you've got me. You know I know what to do. Put me to work.” said Kaalnia, emphatically, “I want to make sure they get a proper send off.”
The elder nodded. “Then I shall. Help me with this,” she gestured to the women, “And we will discuss the next set of preparations.”
~~~
Honestly, as funeral rights went, her own tribe wasn't that complicated. There were specific things that had to be done, sure, and it took a lot of resources, but Kaalnia had read about far more complicated rituals, some that took years to complete. An Alkidike funeral, normally, took only a day to prepare and a suitably clear sunset for the final sendoff... But that was for one alkidike. There were seven: Seven sisters that needed to be given the same respect and high-quality ritual by their family, with as few corners cut as possible. That meant at least four ceremonial boats, if they allowed some respectful doubling up, seven sets of ceremonial funeral garb, scented herbs, oil herbs, and seven sets of funeary objects, custom carved to accompany that specific Alkidike to their end and to represent their deeds. And, for those Alkidikes who's weapons could not be retrieved, replacement weapons had to be made so that they would not want for anything on the other side... whatever that other side might be. Alkidike lore did not say much about the afterlife, as far as Kaalnia had seen.
With so many sisters to provide rites for, there was a serious resource issue: there was just not enough sacred wood to build all the boats they would need. The groves in Ekene's forest that provided the wood had been nearly depleted after the first battle of Neued, and had only recovered a little by now. No one wanted to destroy the groves altogether - it would be an offense to the dead to destroy such sacred beauty in their names. But it would also unthinkable to reduce the number of boats – and thus wood needed – to any more than two warriors per boat. They only had enough for two boats with what they had available, and they had to use the wood for the crafts as well. This created a difficult situation that the elders spent half the day arguing about, to no avail.
Eventually, it got heated, and in the interest of civility they took a brief break to cool down. Elder Oshha joined Kaalnia for a snack and complained to her about the dilemma. Kaalnia, to the elder's surprise, had a decent suggestion: use different wood and consecrate it. Oshha brought it to the meeting when they reconvened and, though there were grumbles about it being disrespectful to not use that particular wood, no one had had any better ideas. The elders discussed it, and eventually it was so – new wood of another type was logged from Ekene's forest, checked for quality, and blessed with oil and words from Eshe before being crafted into the boats. The problem was solved, and Kaalnia was pleased at her part in it. Any crafter of the isles that could be recruited was set to work on the items and the replacement weapons (including – Kaalnia noted – Dyakida, but she had little time to talk to the artisan, so busy was she with other things).
The building of the boats was another problem altogether. To be a boat builder for the tribe was a great honor, given to older Sacred Hearts and Amazons who had shown themselves to be both strong and merciful in battle. They also had skill in carving and crafting, and had made the decision to dedicate their valuable skills to creating the vessels that would carry their tribe's dead. Already, they were hard at work constructing the boats, and their craftsmanship was impeccable.
However, because one of these elite and altruistic sisters was among the dead, her former colleagues were causing a huff: as one of their own, they were trying to construct a special boat for her passing, one that she alone would have. They argued that she deserved it, out her her service to her tribe. The elders did not agree – the single occupancy, they would allow her as an honor befitting her station, but a special boat to put her above her sisters? They would not.
Kaalnia was tasked to 'help' the builders and make sure that every boat was equally intricate, and with one of their crew gone, they did need someone strong and young to help. All the second day, she assisted them in building, and she determined that boat-building was apparently not her strength at this current time. Though she tried to keep up with them, her inexperience and ineptitude kept them from focusing all their attention on one boat. It took them longer, but in the end, five boats, equally ornate and carved with scenes from each warrior's life, were ready. They were consecrated in oil the next dawn, and were ready for their burdens.
The third day saw Kaalnia assisting with collecting the offerings. As well as the funeary statuettes and figurines carved for the occasion, there were sacrifices: food and flowers, personal items, small handwritten letters to the deceased, all of which Kaalnia cataloged for the Elders and helped to sort into their proper boats. Other Alkidike packed the boats with the goods, ensuring that none would be missing when the time came. The dead themselves were set out in a cool cove in the island, awaiting the time of their departure from this world.
Once all the preparations were ready, everyone involved in the work was given a break lasting the rest of that day, and the whole of the next. It was partly because of exhaustion – they had, after all, worked incessantly on the project for three days – and in part because that evening would be cloudy and stormy, an inauspicious time for the dead or the living to set sail for anything.
As she left the sacred grounds for her break, Kaalnia caught the gaze of Elder Oshha. They smiled at her, a weak, tired smile, and gave her a little wave and a nod. That was enough praise for Kaalnia, and it sustained her exhausted body all the way back to her home, where she sank into a well-deserved rest.
~~~
After her nap, Kaalnia went to Andile. She had an errand to run there, and the earthling trader she had commissioned would not wait long in that town, regardless of her ritual needs. She met him in the market and picked up her scroll. He walked away a richer man, she walked away enriched. She'd been waiting for this scroll to come in for some time, and she was excited to read it.
Absorbed by her excitement over her scroll, and by the anticipation of the funeral ritual she was to take part in, she almost didn't notice the shifter camp when she walked into it. It was a small camp, clearly transient or migratory, as there were no pure Shifter communities in Alkidike lands. It was a small group, clearly an extended family. Kaalnia, being partial to Earthlings in general, would have ignored them if not for the tired sadness that suffused their every movement, as if they could barely summon the effort to look at her.
“Hey.” she said, concerned “Everything all right here?”
Obviously not. The youngest among them, a little boy not more than a few summers old, began to cry, a girl who was probably his sister comforting him with soft cooing.
The others of the group watched them for a moment, their faces mirroring the child's despair. Finally, one of them spoke. “We lost one of our own, Alkidike.” they said.
“Oh...” Kaalnia watched the boy in sympathy, “I'm sorry.”
“Worse,” the they continued, “We have no body to bury and honor. He fought in the war and...” the shifter, a woman, began to cry herself. The other adults sniffled in empathy. “And now he's gone. Gone... forever... and we can't do anything...”
Kaalnia moved to comfort the woman. “I'm sorry. That's a terrible thing to happen to anybody...” she patted the woman gently on the shoulder. “Is there an elder you can go to? Someone who might know...?”
“We will NOT ask the elders.” the woman said, her vehemence echoed by the growls and nods of her fellows, “Our parents were banished from their settlement for crimes they did not commit. We will not ask for their help...” her tears dissolved her anger, and she slumped, “Even if they know how to honor my son. Even if they could put him to rest.”
Kaalnia was silent for a moment, recovering from the sting of the woman's anger. She did not pretend to understand what could make this woman and her kin so against the idea of getting help, but she understood that that was what they would do. She was familiar with stubbornness.
A man stepped forward from the group, not quite threatening with his scarred torso and bulky wooden gauntlets. “You know our suffering, Alkidike. You have your answer. Now leave us in peace.” There was an underlying
or else that Kaalnia got, loud and clear.
But she did not back off. “I think I can help you.” she said quietly, meeting his gaze.
“How?” he asked, belligerently.
“Yes, how?” asked the woman. Her voice was more hopeful, and it was hope, not suspicion, that suffused most of the group.
“I'm no elder, just a Blade, but I've been studying how people take care of their dead, and I happened to see some Shifters I was traveling with perform a ritual to someone who's body was lost. I think I can do it... I know what's needed, at least most of it.”
“But not all of it. You don't know all of it.” accused the man, “And you're lying.”
“I'm not lying.” insisted Kaalnia. She was serious, completely serious. “And no, I don't know all the ritual and rites, but I know other ones that will do well in their place.” she shrugged, “Like I said, I can help.”
“Please, Norum...” whispered the woman to the man, “Let her try.”
“What?!” he growled.
“Let her try. Chloym wasn't a picky person, and anything is better than this agony... of knowing he's out there and we can't help him... Anything.”
He grumped and growled and finally relented. “All right. What do you want.”
“Uh, all right.” Kaalnia said, casting back her memory, “I'm going to need a packet of herbs – twigs and herbs tied together in a bundle. That's whats going to make the smoke that'll help him find his way back to you all and give him a way to the afterlife. I'm going to need a wide space open to the sky where I can do this – I'm thinking the canopy...” she looked up, “I'm going to need a personal item of his – that's the stand in for his body, see – and I'm going to need all of you around.”
“What... that's it?” muttered the man.
“That's it. You all get the things, and I'm going to find a suitable spot in the canopy, okay?” she said to them. “Meet me up there when you're ready... er... was he...”
“My son.” the woman offered.
“Ah... thanks. Good to know...” she gave the woman a sheepish look, “Wasn't what I was going to ask, though... did he prefer the day over the night, or what?”
“Day. He was always up in the day...” she said.
“Good. We're at the right time to do the ritual – if he liked the night, I'd have had to have you all wait until the stars came out. But day, so long as the sky is clear...” her brow creased as she struggled to remember the conversation she'd overheard when she'd watched the shifters honor their lost dead, “So long as its clear, it's fine... Anyway, meet you up there.”
Kaalnia clambered up the trees, pulling herself into the leafy, sunlit canopy of Jahuar. It was amazing up here, where the sky ruled and the trees were as the earth. She set about finding a suitably broad tree nearby, with stable, steady boughs. And then, she sat, conjuring up the memory of the words she had to say. She had to do this right, as best as she could remember, after all.
It didn't take long for the family to find what they needed – a parcel of herbs, used in cooking, and the personal item. They found her in the tree tops, all of them: the little boy bounded to her branch and handed her a small, decorated piece of fabric that had seen much wear. “It was Clo's.” he said shyly, “He gave it to be 'afore he left, but its Clo's.” Kaalnia took it with reverence and set it on the branch. The family took places nearby, lingering in the treetops with ease, their light eyes on her.
“All right.” she said, clearing her throat. She held up the herb bundle, “Any of you able to light this? Just the end.” One of the suspicious, stony-eyed males at the back lifted a hand and a small flame sprang to life at the end of it. She blew it out until only embers remained. Smoke, thick and murky and scented, drifted from it into the wide, clear sky. “Perfect.” she said, holding it out in front of her, “Lets begin... What was his name again?”
“Chloym”
“Okay...” She raised the herbs to the sky, taking a deep breath of the scented air. “Chloym!” she called, the sudden volume of her voice making small, hidden animals shudder from their leafy homes. “We call you, and we beg you listen!” She let the call fade into the distance. “Chloym!” she called again, “Those who love you call you! They bid you come to them!”
“We call you...” whispered a few of the family members, the hopeful ones, the ones who were not concerned with whether this Alkidike was a fraud, or whether she was tricking them. The response was a part she had forgotten, and she was glad they knew to do it themselves. Perhaps they remembered other funerals, other times when the dead had been summoned back. Her voice faded into the din of Jahuar.
“Chloym!” she said, louder now, “Those you love call you! They call you home!”
“We call you!” the Shifter's voices were stronger now.
“Chloym! We all call you home, to the hearts of your kin and friends.”
“We call you!” the shifters said. Kaalnia took a deep breath, her arm beginning to tire from holding up the burning herbs.
“We call you home and bid you peace!”
“Peace!” echoed the shifters.
“We call you home and bid you love”
“Love!”
“We call you home and bid you rest!”
“Rest”
Kaalnia crouched and touched the end of the herb bundle, which had been merrily burning as she spoke, to the personal item – not enough to scorch it, but enough to let the ashes and smoke touch it. She fanned the embers, creating a pile of ash in the center of the cloth.
“Your spirit has a way to the heavens.” she said, standing up and holding the cloth beneath the herbs, as if offering them both to the sky, “As you have no breath to reach it, we shall give you our words.” She gestured to the family and held the bundle and cloth to each. “All right.” she said to them quietly, “Now's your turn. Come up and say something to send him off. Anything you want.”
The little boy came up first, almost the moment she finished talking. He put his hands on hers. “Chloym... you were the best big brother I could ever have.” he blurted out, “I wanna be like you when I grow up...” he began to cry again and, equally abruptly, scampered away to hide behind a relative.
His mother came up next. “Chlo... I'm proud of you...” she said softly, touching the cloth lovingly as ashes accumulated on it. “You chose the path of the Bandit, like my father, but you were noble. You were kind. I'm sure...” she sobbed – Kaalnia could see that she was holding back tears, but said nothing. “I'm sure you died a hero. You... wouldn't have gone any other way...” she retreated to her family, her body wracked with silent sobs.
Kaalnia continued to say nothing as, one by one, the family came up to say their part. Some declined, whispering their words in secret, and finally Kaalnia herself spoke. “I don't know you, and you don't know me, but after hearing your family talk about you...” she said, “I feel like we would have gotten along. Its a shame we never got to meet. That aside...” she took a deep breath and returned to her official, loud voice. “May your travels to the heavens be cleared by our words. Take the path that is opened and return to the cycle of stars...” she placed the now mere stubble of the herb bundle on the cloth as it gave off the last of its smoke, “And may your spirit live within us all forevermore.” Gently, deliberately, she blew the ash and herbs into the air, and watched them diffuse into the winds.
There was a moment where they were all quiet; their mind, body, and soul all paying their respects to the now truly departed Chloym. Finally, Kaalnia broke the silence. She turned to the family and held out the cloth. “All right. This part is all you:” she said, “You take this cloth, and you can do what you want with it. You could burn it, wear it, keep it as a keepsake, make it into a doll... anything. But the important thing is that it now represents him in this world, like his body would. Do with it as you want, as you feel he'd want.” She gave it to the woman, “Like I said... this part is up to you.”
“Thank you.” the woman said softly. The man continued to glare but said nothing.
“Just happy I could help.” Kaalnia said. And then she left the family, climbing back down the tree to head for home. As she did so, she felt the sense of something lifted from them all, some sort of burden that they had carried and which was now eased. She grinned as she climbed – she had done good today.
“Hey!” the little boy called after her, his dark face peering through the tree's boughs, “What's your name?”
“Kaalnia!” she called back up to him, pausing in her climb.
He watched her for a moment. “Okay!” he said, and his face vanished from view. Kaalnia waited a few moments more, in case something needed her attention back up there, but when no one returned, she shrugged and climbed the rest of the way down.
She returned to the isles at dusk and went to bed. The next day, as the days before had been, would be a flurry of activity.
~~~
Today was the day, or rather the end of today was when the funeral would happen. The day was a whole lot of perparation. The bodies were annointed and wrapped with herbs and oils and inks that would both preserve them until evening and would let the flames of their pyre consume them as they should. They were placed in the boats – the three that were double-wide and the one that was only for one, tucked in with their belongings. Today, also, the replacements for the lost weapons of the fallen came in, and were arranged on their vessels with them. The heavy vessels were taken, carefully, to the Western shore of the isle, and readied so that they could be embarked on the current that would take them to their final resting place with the sun.
There was much for Kaalnia to do – from organizing to checking lists to sheer physical labor – but finally, evening came, and it was time to send them off. The sun blazed, turning the sky a brilliant orange-red as it began its descent into the darkening waters. The boats were ready, the elders were ready, and the torches were lit. For a moment, all held their breath, and Kaalnia couldn't help but remember the Shifter Chloym's funeral. There had been that same moment, that same awed silence that passed beyond the realm of the physical.
And then the elder broke the silence with words of the ceremony and blessings, and the moment passed. Now it was more like a vigil. Kaalnia was witness to the funerals of these seven Alkidikes, to the ritual speech and to the seven individual speeches about the Alkidike and their lives. She was witness to the lighting of their boats just before they were pushed into the water. She was witness to the brillance of the four boats as they blazed as one with the sun. And, finally, she felt her heart wrench with sorrow as, above them, the Mother Tree rustled. As if she were crying. Kaalnia was surprised, when they finally turned and walked away, to find tears staining her face.
As she began her short trek towards home, Elder Oshha beckoned her aside.
“I wanted to thank you.” the woman said, “For going above and beyond your rank in this endeavor.”
“Nah.” said Kaalnia, shrugging, “It wasn't above and beyond at all. I just wanted to help, and I did.”
“Still... We all appreciate the help you provided... and especially the idea you presented gave me. That required bravery and intelligence to even concieve.”
“Nah, I'm not that smart.” Kaalnia said modestly, “I just had an idea, that's all, and I figured you'd want to hear it.”
The elder looked at her thoughtfully, “Even so.” she said, “You did a great service to your tribe these past few days.” Carefully and deliberately she touched her thumb to Kaalnia's forehead, right between where her markings and her face paint connected. Kaalnia could see, in the firelight and dimming sunlight, something staining the woman's finger. “I mark you as worthy of being promoted to the rank of warrior. I am sure that the other elders will agree when I ask them. Especially after this.” the elder inclined her head respectfully. “Now go home, warrior Kaalnia... we have all...” she gestured to the flames on the water, including the seven in her statement “...earned our rest tonight.”
