The Nian Chronicles

“Wake up, sleepyhead.”

Alaene jerked as someone poked her arm, then she peered at a smiling gold face hovering near. The gentle sun warmed her damp skin, but she blinked from its glare. She had fallen asleep on a large branch of her nest oak last night—again—while studying the stars above her forest village. The last thing she remembered was worrying about the future of her people, the Nia.

Trouble was coming. She was sure of it.

“Hi, Zabor.”

Alaene yawned and stretched to poke him back then sat up to watch the villagers emerging from their family nests. Brown, green, gray, and yellow males and females mingled through the forest on delicate wings. Their belted tunics and leggings of simple linen in complementary colors helped to camouflage them from predators. Soft leather boots protected their feet from briars and thistles as they landed on the forest floor to collect acorns under the village oaks.

Alaene stood and straightened the wrinkles from her silk blue tunic and leggings. She was a Dancer, a warrior of her people, brighter colored than the villagers but not as flamboyant as some Dancers. She fanned her royal blue and silver wings for a moment, both to warm them for flight and to dry them. A light rainfall during the night had turned the air sparkling and sweet, but it also hampered flying.

Zabor, also a Dancer, landed next to her on the branch, taller and slimmer than most Nia. Alaene blinked when a ray of sun caught his gold-and black wings, nearly blinding her. His body stripes were just as bold under his black leggings and gold tunic. Zabor had been Alaene’s best friend since childhood, and she got along with him better than anyone else besides her own family.

“Hungry?” Zabor asked.

Alaene inhaled, smelling sweet clover in the communal meadow nearby. “I am,” she agreed.

But first she paused to tame her chin-length silver hair and bangs with a wooden comb from a leather pouch on her belt. She fluttered to the ground to check her face in a small puddle, making sure her silver skin was clean and her dark blue eyes didn’t show any ill effects of her late night.

Zabor smirked from the branch she’d just left. “Clover doesn’t care what you look like when you eat it.”

“I care,” she retorted. “Someone will notice.”

Zabor glanced at the villagers waving or calling out to them. “I don’t think they mind, either.”

“We are Chosen. We should always look our best.”

Zabor frowned. “Chosen and respected, but we have yet to participate in a Dance. And why are they called Dances if they’re so dangerous?”

“Commander Talek told me our maneuvers look like a dance to anyone watching.”

Alaene remembered her Choosing well. Of the hundred children born during her hatching year, a dozen had been picked, including Alaene and Zabor. Usually only one or two were born with brighter colors. An ominous sign, some had said; one that now seemed accurate.

“Race you to the meadow!” Zabor challenged.

Alaene launched into the air and zipped after Zabor through the small forest sheltering the hanging village of mud and straw nests. At the ragged edge of trees they emerged from the cool shade into the warmth of a flower-filled meadow. They were not the first to arrive. Bright Dancers on guard duty hovered over the muted citizens harvesting blossoms and other foods. Her people only gathered enough from each plant to feed themselves. If they took everything, they wouldn’t have sufficient seeds for next year.

Zabor landed on a gray boulder at the edge of the meadow. “Beat you.”

“Not by much!” Alaene protested, but he had always been faster.

Their first fifty years had included schooling in basic life skills like other Nian children. From the age of fifty, they had trained for battle and learned the ideals of their warrior society. The Dancers defended the Nia from their ancient enemies the Lizia and guarded their establishments from predators. Great honors were bestowed on their legendary Dancers, and stories lauded their adventures for ages. Alaene had been proud to take her place among them, but now she feared.

Alaene paused as another Dancer, Nadia, touched down next to them. She was younger than Alaene and Zabor by a few years but acted older. “Hi, Nadia.”

“Hi, yourself,” Nadia snapped.

She plucked a purple clover blossom and sprawled on the boulder to soak her orange and white wings and body in the sun. She picked at lint on her white tunic—Nadia wore nothing but white—and scowled at Alaene, turning her half-white, half-orange face menacing.

“Look what I found!” Zabor called out from the foliage around the boulder, his black eyes sparkling in his gold face.

He handed them both an early strawberry, each nearly as big as their heads, and Alaene accepted one, frowning. It was smaller than normal, a little grainy, and not nearly as sweet as last year’s harvest; but juice dribbled onto her chin as she bit into it.

Zabor laughed at her. “You’re making a mess.”

Nadia toyed with her orange- and white-streaked hair. “You two are late this morning.”

Alaene nodded and swallowed her mouthful of berry. “I overslept. I stayed up too late watching the stars.”

Zabor shook his head. “Why do you watch the stars all the time? They’re always the same.”

Alaene nodded. “But they’re still pretty.”

She ducked as a honey bee droned by. Bees and the Nia had an uneasy truce. They both used the flowers for food, so Nians were careful not to eat so many flowers that the bees couldn’t gather nectar for honey. In return, the bees gave Nians honeycomb for special occasions.

“What are you doing?” Nadia mocked. “Bees don’t attack us.”

Alaene blushed. Nadia always made her feel foolish with just a word or two, but her caution was just part of her conditioning. “I was just practicing. Everyone ought to be practicing! Commander Talek says the Lizia could come any day.”

Nadia rolled her eyes. “I get so tired of hearing about the Dance all the time.”

“But Nadia, that’s why we’re trained! Protecting the village is our purpose.”

Nadia scowled. “I had no purpose as a Dancer! I ate, I slept, and I was forced to take a boring shift at police duty. Sometimes I played a flute, and sometimes I went to social events, but what was the point? I was trained to fight an enemy that no one alive today has ever seen nor probably ever will.”

Alaene stared at her. “But Nadia, look around! The climate is changing. That’s the first sign that the Lizia will come!”

Nadia snorted. “The sun is shining, it’s summer, and I don’t see anything different than last year.”

Alaene reached out to her. “I know the changes aren’t big, but they are happening! The air isn’t as humid, it isn’t raining as much, and the flowers don’t taste as sweet. This spring is dryer than last year, and the snow wasn’t as deep this winter. And Commander says--”

Nadia yawned and stretched. “He says a lot of things.” She smiled sweetly at Zabor. “I have to go. Coming with me?”

Zabor hesitated, looking at Alaene. “Sure, Nadia. I’ll see you later, Alaene.”

“But what about practice?” Alaene urged.

Zabor shook his head. “Today is my day off.”

Alaene watched him go with a heavy heart, knowing he had fallen in with those who had rebelled. Even on his duty days Nadia had convinced him to skip practices and lessons more often to join her games and frivolity. Who else would she subvert?

Alaene heard murmurs from others around her.

“Some Dancers and citizens moved to the forest edge,” a green harvester grumbled.

A yellow female close to him shook her head. “It’s not safe to live so far from the main village! They’ll be the first ones the Lizia go after.”

An older gray villager snorted. “The Lizia are a myth. I think the Dancers just fabricated the Histories to make themselves look important.” He noticed Alaene still there and blushed under his grey coloring before turning away.

These insidious murmurings had lured many of her generation away from their duties, even Zabor. Alaene couldn’t understand how anyone would not believe the Histories, especially now that signs of drought were upon them. The northern lands would fare worse, which always brought northern animals into their lands for food; including the Lizia.

It was only a coincidence, some said, but Alaene was sure they were coming. If the Dancers abandoned their duties, who would protect the families? Alaene sighed and nibbled her berry then retreated to the forest and her favorite place; her parents’ home. They would listen.

Her moss green younger brother Mattan was outside twirling and swooping, so she watched him for a moment. He was only thirty-five and still in school, but he wanted to be an engineer like their father. He was not brightly-colored like Alaene, but he was just as rambunctious as she’d always been, and he was always getting into trouble.

He caught sight of her and zipped closer. “Alaene!” he shouted. “Mother, Father! Alaene is here!”

Laughing, she darted around the family nest, making him chase her. “Catch me if you can!”

He gave a good effort but complained, “Come on, Alaene! You know I can’t fly as fast as you!”

When she finally relented and let him catch up, he hugged her as if he’d never let go. “I missed you so much!”

Alaene’s mother and father stepped out of an entrance onto a porch attached to the side of the nest. They weren’t as agile as they used to be, and her mother’s brown face was lined around the eyes and mouth, but Vartan’s gray-streaked hair and Shania’s soft brown wings were the most comforting sight in the world.

“Alaene!” Shania sighed.

Vartan hugged her tightly. “Welcome home, my darling daughter.”

Alaene followed them inside the first level of a cozy family room the same as she remembered. Sunlight from an open window glinted on the rabbit down rug lining the floor of the nest. She settled onto her blue silk cushion across from the entrance, giving her a good view of the entire first level. Her parents settled on their matching grey cushions and folded their wings in tight.

Alaene split her berry with the family, and Mattan disappeared down a hole in the corner of the floor that led to the sleeping rooms. Below that a third level stored dried plants, fruits, seeds, and nuts in the winter.

“Mattan? What are you doing?” her mother called. “Getting into the food again?”

Martan popped back up with a piece of honeycomb. “Alaene shared with us, so I’m going to share with her!” He broke the honeycomb and passed part of it to Alaene.

“Oh, thank you, Mattan! I love honeycomb!”

They ate blossoms, berry, and honeycomb in silence. Alaene loved to visit her family home, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the dissenters. Her worry must have shown on her face.

“Alaene?” her mother asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Zabor has been hanging around with Nadia’s dissenters,” Alaene sighed. “I’m really worried.”

Her father closed his eyes. “There are many who disbelieve.”

Alaene shook her head. “But why? Look around! The signs are here. We should be getting the shelter ready. Families should be getting ready! Have you been getting ready?”

“We have,” Shania assured. “All this week. And everyone who still believes has been down at the shelter to dig out and enlarge the tunnels. Our population has doubled, so the shelter isn’t big enough anymore.”

Alaene stared at her mother. “I hadn’t heard that. That’s not good.”

Vartan shrugged. “We have a little time left, don’t we? The Lizia usually come south during a hot, dry summer to find food and water. It’s still only spring.”

Alaene nodded. “We do have some time left, but if others continue to disbelieve and don’t help prepare, a lot of Nians will be caught off guard. Our population could be decimated regardless of the Dancers that remain.”

Her mother’s eyes flicked to Mattan listening to their conversation. Alaene rolled the last piece of berry in her hands. “I have to talk to Commander Talek,” she decided. “He may know how to solve this problem.”

“You may not be able to,” Vartan warned.

Alaene finished her berry and honeycomb then stood up. “I have to do something! Too many others are doing nothing!”

She emerged from her parent’s nest and flew towards the center of the forest. A military barracks had been built millennia ago for Dancers to gather for lessons. She knew she’d find Commander Talek in attendance, and he hovered in a beam of sunshine watching the proceedings. His purple wings and gold body were the second most comforting sights in her world. She had admired and revered him as long as she could remember.

Her distant cousin Sergeant Ramal was there as well, his royal blue and black wings sparkling in the sun. He drilled the Dancers on evasive maneuvers but paused to stop the closest two from tearing into each other over a disagreement. He drew them aside to lecture a moment then let them return to their drills.

Alaene waited from a tree branch on the sidelines, watching the trainees zip back and forth and up and down at random intervals and directions to evade the other person, some successfully, some not. She remembered many days spent doing the same thing for hours on end until she had graduated into the adult forces.

Not much later, Ramal dismissed the students to their next lessons, and then the commander and sergeant noticed her sitting on the branch. “Alaene!” Talek greeted as he approached. “My best warrior. How are you?”

Alaene shook her head. “Not good. Things aren’t going well. I think Zabor is deserting.”

“About a third of the Dancers have done so,” Talek mused.

Alaene threw her arms out. “How do we stop them? Another Dance is coming soon!”

Ramal shook his head. “We can’t stop them. They will find out for themselves.”

“But then they won’t be prepared and they might--” Alaene swallowed hard. Some of the histories were hard to hear. Not all Dancers survived a Dance.

“Be eaten?” Talek finished. “Dancers accept that risk to protect the families.”

Ramal nodded. “Few villagers get eaten when enough Dancers rise up to fight.”

“But if the dissenters abandon us, the families will get eaten instead!”

Talek stared at the blue sky. “There have been other Abandonings. Enough citizens survived to continue our population.”

Alaene knew that, but she didn’t want it to happen during her time. “There has to be something we can do!”

Talek nodded. “Keep talking and drilling. I’m calling up the Younglings this week.”

“But they’re too young!” Alaene protested. “Some still have five years before their old enough!”

“Times are desperate, Alaene!” Talek rebuked. “They may be our only chance for survival. I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Are any of them rebelling?”

Talek shook his head. “No, not yet. They’re more willing to listen. It’s your age group that’s wavering. They’re old enough to question what they’ve been taught but not old enough to have experience. They lack the advantage of an older generation that experienced a Dance first hand. My teacher fought in in a Dance,” he sighed. “I wish I’d been born a little sooner so that I might have seen it.”

“But then you might not be here now!”

Talek smiled. “You’re probably right, Alaene. And I hope to survive this one, but who knows? I’m old now and not as agile.”

Alaene paused. It had not occurred to her that he might not survive. He’d been around as long as she could remember. Ramal held her gaze then looked away.

Alaene turned back to Talek. “You shouldn’t say that.”

Talek sighed. “The truth isn’t always easy to hear, but wise Nians heed it.”

While he flew off to speak with a group of gathered officers, Alaene turned to Ramal. “Tell me the truth, sir. What was that look for?”

“He hasn’t been feeling well,” Ramal murmured. “We’ll have to keep an eye on him. The medic told him to rest, but he refuses to quit working.”

Alaene studied her commander. Talek wasn’t flying with as much energy. He settled onto a tree branch during the meeting, opening and closing his left hand and stretching out his arm.

“That scares me,” she confessed.

Ramal nodded. “Me too, cousin. His age may be catching up to him.”

“When the Lizia come, he must be protected. He can’t fight them. He’s too—” she broke off, not wanting to say old, but Talek had been old when she was born.

“I’ve arranged a guard unit to protect him the minute the attack comes.”

“What do we do about the dissenters?”

Ramal shook his head. “Leave them be as Commander Talek advised. They’ll see their folly soon enough.”

Alaene left the practice clearing none the wiser. She wasn’t a commanding officer yet, as several warriors ranked higher than her, but something had to encourage the dissenters back to order.