Lamentation
an excerpt

The beat of the drums and the flicker of the bonfire off the faces clustered around all conspired to give the small village an air of mystery and allure
Shoda stepped into the firelight, her face impassive. She was dressed sparsely, sporting only a loincloth to cover her nether regions. All her other adornments were ceremonial. Around her neck she wore her age-tabard, with twenty rows of beads to represent the number of years she had lived. On her arms was a pair of cuffs plated in gold and inscribed with the sacred symbols for Self and set with red stones. ON her head was a headband adorned with the skull of the red-winged blackbird along with beads and feathers.

She stepped forward again, fully entering the firelight, her feet standing firm on the hard packed earth. The assemblage quieted as she stared around her. There was Roburt, sitting cross-legged on a platform erected just for him, next to the aged shaman was her brother, looking excited and just a little jealous. To her right sat the train from Kish, the curious yellow-skinned Jothani named Aoris, his head still bandaged where Shoda had been unable to fully heal his wounds. He smiled at her, and she blushed.

Someone started up with a drum and she closed her eyes, feeling the pulse of the beat as a larger, bass-type drum joined in. She leaned back slowly, letting the rhythm throb through her, electrifying all of her senses. One step forward, two to the side, lean forward, tap your toes on the ground, listen. A tinkling from the direction of the platform told her Laok had joined in with his tambourine. She hopped in a circle in time with her brother’s music, letting him lead her, he in turn being led by the drummers. It was an amazing feeling, letting her be led by the music of her village, bowing below their wisdom, serving them and them serving her in return.

When someone started in on a small, piping flute she leapt into the air, spinning her legs around and cavorted in the firelight. The flute trilled and danced and she danced in return, stepping lightly, leaping with grace, falling hard to the beat of the drums that coursed through her.

She paused, lifted her head, and took a moment to watch the sparks from the fire spiraling upward among the trees to fade away as they danced with the stars. She opened her mouth and started to sing, high, yelling, soulful. She stamped her feet and came down, skipped around the bonfire and followed the music again. Rising when it did, and falling when it failed. She kept her eyes to the bonfire, feeling its primal heat lick against her cool green skin. Breathing in, she finally understood. She opened her soul to her village, took her Self and gave it to them.

She started to glow, with a soft white light. Tendrils of her Self licked at the ends of her fingers, played at the ends of her toes. As she leapt and cavorted she left shining tracks of her passage hanging, quivering in the night air. She could feel it. She felt her Self leaving her, felt the rest of the villagers taking it in, taking her for their own. It was exhausting, but wonderful, it felt like sex and she luxuriated in it. Loving every moment of giving herself to those she would be serving.

Finally the rest of the villagers began to sing. She could pick out her brother’s strong tenor, could hear Roburt’s shaking baritone all intertwined with voices she had grown to know and love, and even voices she didn’t recognize. The travelers from Kish must be singing too.

She spun to a stop and slowly opened her eyes. She had landed before the yellow-skinned Jothani from Kish, Aoris. His face was flushed and sweaty, his eyes shining. She smiled again as he applauded. The rest of the village soon followed and she straightened up and walked to the platform to kneel before Roburt.

“That was well done daughter! Well done indeed!”

She found she couldn’t reply, she was panting and spent, but he seemed to understand. He rested a hand on her head as Laok struck up another tattoo on the tambourine. She felt coming back to her a little of what she had given out, not all of it, no. She would never get that back, but it was given freely and she would never ask for it back. But this tiny bit was enough for now, enough that she could stand again, and face the village, her village now, and join in the festivities.