by Pedro Urvi
“We call them Flyers. And we call her Happy Flyer. She loves to soar into the skies.
“It takes your breath away.”
“Isn’t she something?”
“Oh yes. I’ve never seen anything like it …”
The Bird shook its head.
“Easy, Happy Flyer, she’s a friend,” Ilia said. She gave a nod of acknowledgement in Albana’s direction.
“She doesn’t like strangers,” Pilap said. He went up to the bird and stroked its beak. “She gets nervous.”
Albana, who by now had got over her shock, tried to stroke the gray and black feathers on its breast. Happy Flyer gave a warning croak, and she stepped back at once.
“It takes her a while to make friends,” Lial said with a mischievous smile.
“This is Albana, she’s a friend,” Ilia said to the bird as she stroked its neck. Happy Flyer did not take her eyes off Albana and moved her neck restlessly. It took her a moment to calm down.
“Hi there, Happy Flyer,” Albana said. She came a little closer. The bird eyed her warily but did not shriek.
Ilia indicated the Flyer’s back. “Get up.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, she won’t hurt you. As long as I don’t tell her to, of course.” Ilia gave a roguish grin.
“And couldn’t we do it on horseback like civilized people?”
“Horse? What’s a horse?”
Albana put her hand to her forehead. She always forgot that the People of the Trees had no horses. Why would a people who lived in unfathomable forests and slept in the tops of trees need horses?
“Nothing, I didn’t say anything.” She smiled. Carefully she climbed on to the back of the great bird, holding on to a harness made of ropes arranged around the bird’s body.
“Hold fast.”
Albana did so. “And what about these two? Aren’t they coming?”
Pilap looked offended. “My sister doesn’t want us to get mixed up in this.”
“Your sister doesn’t want you to take unnecessary risks,” Ilia put in.
“But you might need us,” Lial protested. She took out her hatchet.
“Let’s hope not. I’m already taking Albana. That should be enough help.”
Pilap was not convinced. “Well, whatever you say, but I don’t agree,” he grumbled.
“Go back to the village and make sure we haven’t aroused any suspicions. Watch the Shaman, but don’t go near him or his men. Understood?”
Both youngsters nodded reluctantly.
“Ready?” she asked Albana.
“I still can’t believe you’ve come down from the sky to pick me up on this gigantic bird. It’s amazing.”
“Ha! Well, if that’s surprised you, you just wait for what’s coming next.”
At Ilia’s command the majestic bird took off, carrying the girls with it. The beautiful animal glided upward with amazing ease. She rose to the skies with complete stealth and rose higher and higher. In the blink of an eye they were already above the giant trees of the forest, and Albana felt an excitement and joy she had not known in a long time. She felt free, truly free, with the sky above and the distant forest below her feet. Lost in wonder, she enjoyed the flight as they glided over the unfathomable forest at an incredible height.
“Awesome, isn’t it?” Ilia asked her with a smile.
The night breeze, impelled by the speed of the flight, buffeted Albana’s face, and she felt a sense of delight.
“Much more than that. Why didn’t you say anything about it to me?”
“It’s a secret. The Shamans have forbidden us even to mention them. They want to control them, they won’t allow anybody to keep them. Before the Gods, the Flyers were my people’s sisters. Each village had several of them, and we lived in harmony. We looked after them and they carried us through the skies.”
“Where are they now?”
“They’re kept prisoners in the county capitals. In chains. They’ve given them to the Proxies.”
“I see. They’ve taken them away from you.”
Ilia made Happy Flyer turn and steered her toward the north.
“They represent freedom,” she went on. “They don’t want the people to have them.”
Albana nodded. Imagining those regal birds in chains, a deep sadness came over her.
“Luckily the Chiefs managed to save and hide some of them. This is my father’s Flyer.”
“She’s free, and your father’s a prisoner…”
“One of the reasons for it is that he refused to give her up. He entrusted me with hiding her, and that’s what I did.”
“Your father’s a good man.”
Ilia stared ahead, and tears ran down her cheeks. Albana knew they were not because of the wind and the speed.
“We’ll rescue him, I promise.”
“Thank you, Albana.”
She made the bird turn again, and they began to glide down.
“Where are we going? Why such secrecy?” Albana asked. Her suspicious instinct was warning her that something important was afoot.
“The day you’ve spent so long waiting for has come.”
“Truly? Do you really mean it?”
Ilia’s voice was firm. “Truly.” She pointed to a dense area of the forest ahead. “We’re almost there now.”
Happy Flyer glided down a little further, then suddenly shrieked and tried to veer to the right. Ilia managed to bring her under control and stabilize her course.
Albana was grasping the harness more firmly. “What’s the matter with her?”
“The barrier of the Gods is very close. They don’t dare go near it.”
“Can they cross it?”
Ilia shook her head.
Happy Flyer shrieked again and tried to fly away, but Ilia imposed her will on her, stroking her neck.
“Come on, my friend, we’re nearly there,” she said,.
The bird glided down, heading towards some trees to the north. Using her powerful claws, she landed on a huge wooden platform between three of the giant trees. It was pitch–black, but Albana’s trained ears could make out the presence of other birds nearby. She reached for her daggers.
“Welcome, Ilia,” a friendly voice said. It was an old voice.
Albana’s eyes adjusted themselves to the surrounding darkness. Several warriors appeared, carrying lights: very faint ones that vanished after a couple of steps. She realized they were using glow-worms to create enough light to see. Surprising but effective. They take precautions. It surprised her, since the People of the Trees were not exactly given to discretion or stealth. Rather the opposite. It was one of the main reasons why they had not made progress with the rebellion. It would seem they’re learning some stealth at last. Perhaps there’s still a chance.
On one side of the platform she found thirty or so of the gigantic birds, with several warriors tending to them. On the other side were their owners. And these were not just any riders. All their faces were painted and marked with primitive symbols which marked them out as tribal Chiefs. They were sitting on one of the huge branches which crossed the platform, several feet above it. Curiously, or perhaps deliberately, the branch curved on itself to create a shape like a seashell. The Chiefs were sitting in a circle, with one in the center. I can’t believe it. All the principal chiefs are meeting at last. It’s what we’ve been after all this time, and it’s been impossible until now. At last there’s hope.
Ilia looked up at the speaker, the Chief in the center, and dismounted. “Thank you,” she said.
Albana followed her example, without taking her eyes off the Chiefs. She stayed still. One of the warriors came to take Happy Flyer away.
“Come with us, Ilia, the Council of Chiefs is waiting for you.”
She moved closer. “It is an honor, First Chief.”
“You are here to represent your father,” another chief said. “Those treacherous Shamans have him prisoner. We value his sacrifice.”
Ilia went to stand under the
branch, and a liana came down to her.
Another chief pointed at Albana with a long curved knife. His face was painted black. “Is this the Foreigner you’ve been telling us about for so long?”
“Yes, she’s the Foreigner, the one who comes from the other side of the barrier of the Gods.”
A third chief, whose face was painted red, gesticulated emphatically. “You say her people freed themselves from the Gods. We want to know how they did that. Let her join us.”
Albana looked at Ilia, who gave her a sign to come closer. When she reached her side Ilia gestured upwards. Albana nodded back, and the other girl proceeded to climb the liana with perfect ease. Albana shook her head and a smile crept across her face. They’re really like green monkeys. If I told Ikai he’d never believe me. She followed Ilia, but even with her training as a Shadow and her natural ability she could not manage to climb as fast or as gracefully as her friend.
“Sit in your father’s place,” said the First Chief. Ilia sat down in a space they had saved for her between two Chiefs whose faces were painted brown and gray.
Albana turned her attention to the Chiefs for a moment. They were tough men; she could see it in their eyes. She noticed they all wore a giant feather from a Flyer on each arm.
“Foreigner, you sit here, with me,” the First Chief invited her.
She saw his face was painted white, and a shiver ran down her spine. She leapt along the branch to his side.
“Good. We are all here. I see all my Chief-brothers, leaders of the tribes of the sacred forests. We have spent a long time resisting the Shamans and the Enforcers of the Gods. The moment has come to take the decisive step.”
“My tribe is ready,” said a Chief whose face was painted black. “And I know my brothers’ tribes too are ready to kill those treacherous Shamans.” The Chiefs he now pointed at confirmed his words with much nodding in agreement.
“We too are ready,” said a Chief whose face was painted red. Immediately the other Chiefs with red-painted faces brought out their long knives and began to make gestures of cutting somebody’s throat.
In a moment all the Chiefs were on a war footing, knives in hands, eyes burning.
“We’ll tear the hearts out of those profane invaders who kill our sacred forests!” cried a Chief whose face was painted brown. “Let not a single Shaman be left alive!”
“Let not a single Enforcer be left alive!” said another, his face painted gray. “We’ll serve the gods no more! Let’s kill all the Shamans and Enforcers and be free!”
All the Chiefs joined in the cry, brandishing their knives with the rage of those who have been enslaved their whole lives, those who have been the helpless witnesses of the destruction of their natural habitat.
The First Chief rose and motioned them to be calm.
“Foreigner, what do you think?”
Albana got to her feet. Her eyes lingered on the Chiefs as they sat down and became calmer.
“I see strong Chiefs. And I like that. I’ve been living among you for quite a while. I’ve come to know the People of the Trees, and they’re a strong, proud people, who want to be free. A people I admire, and I can assure you I’m not soft-hearted, nor do I care for empty praise. If I tell you this, it’s because I feel it.”
The Chiefs nodded, pleased at her words.
“How do we get rid of the Shamans and Enforcers?”
Albana sighed. “Using brute force, attacking them like savages, you won’t succeed.”
The reaction was immediate. The Chiefs all rose in annoyance, amid protests.
“I understand that you want to kill the Shamans, who’ve taken away your authority, who only serve the Proxies. I understand you want to fight the Enforcers, because you’re a brave people. And it does you credit. But if you do it openly, you’ll fail. They’ll kill you.”
The protests grew.
“Think about it for a moment. Why has it taken us so long to get as far as this meeting, to get to this moment when all the Chiefs have joined together at last to rise against the enemy? Well, I’ll tell you why. Because the enemy has had you watched and controlled all this time, and you haven’t found any way of fighting in the shadows. You’re all brave men, fighters, and your first impulse is to go out into the open and fight them. And that hasn’t gone well for you so far, has it? And nor will it go well for you in an uprising.”
The First Chief spoke at this point. “What you say is true. They control our every step, and everything we’ve tried has failed. The Shamans see everything, and they can count on the Enforcers.”
“That’s why I’m saying this to you. Fighting openly isn’t the way to do it. We need to win with cunning. Coolly, and with the spirit of murderers.”
“We’re listening.”
“We’re not going to jump at their throats in broad daylight. That would be suicide. No matter how brave you may be. Tricks, ruses and the night will be our allies. That’s the only way we stand a chance.”
“So what do you propose?”
“We’re going to use the Dark Arts, which happen to be my own specialty.”
“And we’ll win?”
“I’ve trained all my life to win. We’ll win!”
The First Chief got to his feet. “We shall do as the Foreigner says.”
The other Chiefs seemed to meditate for a moment. Then they joined their leader.
“We shall win!” they all cried, knives in the air.
Chapter 10
Adamis stared at the image of Notaplo on the blue water of the pond. It was as if he were really there, with him, reflected on the surface of the quiet waters. But it was not so; he was there alone. Notaplo was very far away, in Alantres, the Eternal City, and he himself was in the underground temple which had been his enforced home since he had been stabbed for helping the Senoca free themselves from the Golden.
The image wavered and appeared to lose strength, as if it were about to disappear.
“Notaplo, are you there?”
“Yes, Your Highness. I am going to adjust the monolith of knowledge in my chamber to try and strengthen the signal.
Adamis felt helpless; there was nothing he could do to improve communication. It was a feeling he had had to accustom himself to during his long period of enforced rest. He leaned the weight of his body on his right foot and a terrible pain ran up to his hip. He bore the pain by clenching his jaw. His body punished him mercilessly the moment he relaxed. The slightest movement, or even the slightest effort, if he did not prepare himself for it beforehand, unleashed an agony.
He took a deep breath, swallowing the pain. He had regained some mobility after a great deal of effort, but the poison had damaged his body. Every day he went through difficult moments, moments when he almost wished the poison had killed him. But then he thought about Kyra, and the dark thought vanished immediately. I will live for Kyra, fight for her, today, tomorrow, always, no matter how hard the days are, no matter how terrible the punishment.
“Your Highness?” Notaplo said, and his image on the pond took on greater clarity.
“I am sorry, Notaplo, there is not much I can do on this side to help you. I do not know how to interact with the Power Aruma and her Children of Arutan use. There are no monoliths of knowledge here, I am facing a pond, in an underground chamber, and the walls are lined with vegetation.” He shook his head hard. “It means nothing to me. Everything is very strange in this temple; nothing is as it is in Alantres.”
Notaplo nodded, smiling. “Do not worry, your Highness. Although in appearance it might seem that their Power is very different from ours, it is not really. In fact the Power of the Children of Arutan is more basic, more elemental, and in touch with Nature. That is why they use elements that belong to nature ‒ this pond, for example ‒ as a means of channeling their power.”
“You ought to see this temple. You would love it.”
Notaplo smiled. “I would give everything to be able to study it at leisure…”
“Aruma has s
pent much of her life here, according to what she has told me, and has carried out what she calls ‘remodeling’. The temple was originally very similar to those at home, but you should see it now. There are ponds in round chambers, immense trees that rise through several levels. Natural daylight comes in, where from or how I do not know; there are rivulets that run between the chambers, waterfalls at different levels, even a huge lake at one of the deepest levels. And not only that, there are all kinds of flora growing in all the chambers of the temple. There are only three chambers that still resemble those of our home. One is my bedchamber, another Aruma’s, and the third serves as an antechamber which can be subdivided into more rooms. But what is really surprising is that nothing of all this is fake or an optical illusion. No, everything is real: rivers, trees, lakes, real flora, natural. Inside an underground temple!”
“Truly fascinating. I would give everything to see it.”
“And I would I give anything to have you here with me, my old friend.”
Notaplo blushed a little and scratched his white beard.
“And fauna? Does Aruma have any animals with her?
“It is strange, but no, she does not. She claims that animals should run free and be happy, not keep a crazy old woman company in her shelter.”
Notaplo laughed.
“Although let me tell you that she is not in the least crazy. She plays that particular role, but she is profoundly intelligent and extremely lucid.”
“And very wise, let us not forget that. She is one of the Ancients, and they lead the Children of Arutan. I understand they are very intelligent Golden, and have great learning.”
“Like you, my old Erudite.”
“Ha… rather more than I, I fear.”
“I doubt that very much. Now tell me, how are you? Is everything well?”
Suddenly an overwhelming sense of worry reached Adamis.
“What is going on, old friend? What are you not telling me?”
Notaplo sighed. “I see I cannot hide my concerns from you, my Prince.”
Adamis waved at the silvery walls of the chamber with its covering of vegetation, then at the pond. “It is this place. It transmits far more than your voice and your image, and I cannot find any explanation of how this is possible.”
