by R. T. Donlon
“The Shadows aren’t real!” spat Relu. “You embarrass me in front of my Chieftain? How dare you come here and spit such exaggerated words after I trusted you!”
The anger behind Relu’s words scared Jennison more than any Portizu thing he had seen thus far. He pushed hard at the foreigner’s shoulder with strong fingers, forcing Jennison to his knees. With a quick, abrasive movement, the point of Relu’s dagger pricked the side of his neck, exposing a bead of blood that fell to the inlay of his shoulder.
“Wait, Relu!” Zazana called. “We must not make rash assumptions. Perhaps there is an explanation for this man’s curious information. Lead a Pack to the Tension Fields. Find out if what this man says is true.”
Relu pulled the dagger away from Jennison’s neck.
“My Chief, you cannot possibly believe—” Relu began, but was interrupted quickly by Zazana’s upturned hand.
“Relu, do you trust me?”
Chieftain Zazana had calmed his voice to nearly a whisper. Relu—without hesitation—bowed deep at the hips
“With all I am, my Chief,” he spoke.
“Then you will do this for me. You will lead a Pack to the Tension Fields. You will return with news, then upon your return, we will decide on the fate of our ferrila.”
Relu breathed heavy against Zazana’s wishes, but calmed himself and accepted the calling.
“In the meantime,” the Chieftain continued, “the ferrila will stay with me and await his fate.”
Without another word, Relu exited the Throne Room in a heated rush of limbs. The quiet thud of the Warrior’s bare feet dissipated into silence.
“The Tension Fields are not far from here. Relu will return in a matter of hours. Until then, we have much to discuss,” spoke the Chieftain. “Come. Join me.”
A sudden nervous ache filled Jennison’s chest. He had never seen the Tension Fields with his own eyes. What if King Altruit had received false information? What if the Shadows did not exist at all? What would come of him?
Ferrila, he thought. What comes of all of us in the Portizu Lands.
As Jennison opened his mouth to speak, Zazana raised a longsword that had been resting against the Throne to his waist. He slid his finger across the dull metal siding. Its sharp edges glistened, even in the fronded shade. The sound of Zazana’s finger against the cold metal sent a shiver down Jennison’s spine.
“What do you wish to know?” Jennison asked. “About my people? About my home?”
A moment of silence followed by a quick, inward breath.
“Let’s start with your King…and why he has sent you here,” spoke Zazana. “Surely there is something he desires, no? An alliance means compromise between two parties. Your King has offered revelation, but—I wonder—what does he want from us in return?”
Jennison maintained quiet for a few moments longer than needed.
“That depends on your willingness to trust the Light Empire and, as we speak, there is no trust between you and I. You have made that quite clear. I can feel how tense I have made you and your people. I am sorry for that.”
Zazana dropped the sword carelessly to the floor. It clanged hard as it collided with the stone platform at Zazana’s feet. The Chieftain stood, stretched quietly, and adjusted the red silk flaps that fell aesthetically down his chest in vertical lines.
“Until Relu returns, there is not much we can do. Join me for a meal. Surely you are hungry.”
When Jennison did not answer, the Chieftain approached him with an open hand.
“Come now,” Zazana persisted. “You are still our guest—for the time being, at least. Let us talk about the affairs of our Great Range.”
Relu ran.
He sprinted through the Highlands streets, through mobs of countless onlookers, through the backside farming lands of the Portizu capital and their winding paths of steepened hillsides and flattened plains, then finally, just as he had begun to feel his pace catch up with him, he entered the most dense parts of the eastern Portizu jungle. In some areas, he could barely see inches in front of him, tripping several times over tree roots and Eldervarn vines. He pulled himself free every time, but not without expelling significant amounts of energy in order to do so. This portion of the terrain would prove tricky for any Portizu, but deadly for anything else.
He had only brought one other person with him—a thin, athletic Highlands guard by the name of Griel. He possessed a sturdy frame and Warrior’s mentality, but what had most impressed Relu about the kid was his tenacity. Griel’s reputation among his people had always preceded him and the fact that Relu had had his eye on him for some time meant that he had found himself in the right place at the right time.
So without thought, Relu grasped at Griel as he passed his hut in the Highlands.
“You are coming with me,” Relu had said. He caught hold of him with an outstretched arm and, without resistance, Griel took off next to him.
Instinct, Relu thought. The boy has instinct.
“Try and keep up,” said Relu.
If Griel had ever been taught to smile, he would have.
Only Turisic knew if Griel could have kept pace with Relu through the thickening jungle, but as the end of the vegetation neared, Relu only kept his focus ahead—not only because of the jagged roots and jutting Eldervarn thorns—but because of the poison insects crawling somewhere—anywhere—under his feet.
He reached the lip of the forest and noticed the sudden change of light. Here, the moonlight blanketed all, covering the flattened land with a haze of silver.
“The moment of truth,” Relu spoke out loud to no one.
Griel had just pulled himself from the jungle, breathing heavy.
Up ahead, across a massive expanse of separated land, a low-hanging black cloud swarmed into a giant, featureless cyclone. Relu rubbed at his eyes and squinted, somehow hoping they were playing some sort of cruel trick on him, but what he was looking at was real—as real as anything he had ever seen.
“Turisic save us,” Griel spoke at Relu’s back.
The ground’s opening stretched about a third of a mile out and seemed to fall to infinite depths. The cloud of swarming Darkness in the distance wobbled and whirled on its opposite edge, farthest from where the Portizu stood. Other Shadows lined the edge of the chasm on either side of the cloud, forming vague silhouettes of human bodies for the briefest of moments, then disappearing back into its collective, cloud-like energy. Without hesitation, the cloud flung itself over the cliffs toward them. It failed to traverse the open chasm, but it pulled itself back up onto its ledge, hovering aggressively like a predator awaiting its prey.
It knows we’re here, Relu thought.
Another sharp scream broke through the air, chilling the blood in Relu’s veins.
“Relu, look,” Griel spoke, pointing north into the endless expanse beyond these cracks in the earth to another set farther into the distance..
As far as he could see, bulging clouds of Darkness filled the land. Some formed super clouds and broke into fits of static lightning, dispersing somewhere deep overhead, darkening the sky into a strange cloak of black.
“Is this…” Griel began, but the word that finished his phrase seemed to stick at the back of his throat.
“Yes, Griel. This is real.”
They watched as the closest Shadow cloud once again attempted another leap toward them—screaming the entire way—but falling deep into the chasm. It returned to its cliff with an even deeper, noticeable rage in its violent lateral movements, shooting sparks of energy in all direction.
“Listen to me carefully,” mumbled Relu to Griel. “You must never speak of what you have seen here today. There are things happening here that could cripple the Portizu name.”
Griel turned to Relu, perplexed.
“You are not yet a Warrior,” Relu explained. “Leave these sort of matters to men like me.”
There was a moment of hesitance as though Griel wished to say something, but no words could project
from his throat.
“This will never leave my lips,” Griel spoke, “but Relu, please answer me one thing.”
Relu turned, attaching a firm lock to Griel’s waning stare.
“What are they? Surely they cannot be—”
Relu had wanted nothing more than to hold it back—to keep it from actually becoming real in his mind—but the word had already escaped his mouth.
“Shadows.”
The Throne Room doors opened at the sound of Relu’s footsteps, but at this time of night, the room was empty save a select handful of guardsmen.
“Where is the Chieftain?” Relu asked with force, with urgency.
A single guard at the room’s entrance turned to face Relu. No expression nor words crossed his sunken face. Relu felt the weight of the silence and pushed further.
“What I must tell the Chieftain is of the utmost importance. Tell me where the Chieftain resides. Now.”
The guard, once again, did not speak, only pointed his spear toward a hallway that led to a quarantined side of the Palace—the dining hall and bedrooms. It was late and the return journey from the Tension Fields had taken Relu and Griel longer to navigate in the black of the night. The Eldervarn vines seemed to have come alive and Griel’s lack of endurance had suddenly taken its toll.
Relu charged through the empty corridor. He had expected the Chief to be alone and the diplomat to be shipped away to the dungeon for holding, but the two men—Zazana and Jennison—sat shoulder to shoulder at the far end of a table, laughing with drinks in hand. Chief Zazana—once one of the fiercest of all Warriors in the Portizu Lands—sat with a ferrila—and laughing, no less!
Relu cleared his throat, catching the attention of both men at the opposite side of the table.
“Relu!” Zazana bellowed, half-drunk. “Come! Join us!”
Relu did as he was told, highly suspicious of his Chieftain’s actions. He bowed into minjori, keeping his mind clear, his eyes open.
“I have never seen you like this, my Chief. Is everything alright with our guest?”
Relu turned his attention to Jennison, who sat with nothing more than a tepid glare plastered to his face.
“We are just getting to know each other. I’m assuming all I have told you today has been confirmed as truth?”
Something had soured in the diplomat while Relu was away. Perhaps it was the dagger Relu had threateningly pushed into the side of Jennison’s throat. Perhaps it was the blatant words of distrust he had spat at the diplomat before he had left. In either case, it was clear the ferrila had not taken it well. He could see it in his eyes.
“Firstly,” Relu began. “I offer my apologies for my actions. It was rash. It is no way to treat a guest with our best interests in mind. You have proven to be more than a ferrila. It seems you are a friend.”
Jennison lowered his head, nodding.
“I accept your apology. It is only natural to be suspicious of foreigners. We, too, have our precautions.”
“Secondly,” Relu continued. “I have seen the Shadows with my own eyes. They are confined to the other side of the Chasms for now, but it will only be a matter of time before they find their way onto Portizu Lands.”
“That is what we were just discussing,” the Chief barked. The drink had loosened Zazana’s composure. “Relu, please sit. Join us.”
Relu, again, did what he was told.
Jennison continued. This time, cordially.
“My King not only wishes to inform you of the Dark powers that have suddenly reemerged in our corner of the world, but he also wishes to call upon the Portizu for help, to be true allies of the Light Empire. We must be proactive in our decision-making processes from this moment forward, which means we must be in constant communication to snuff the flame of Darkness before the Shadows become a real threat.”
Relu shifted his eyes from Jennison to his Chief, but Zazana offered no sense of comfort.
“King Altruit is hosting a conference for all leaders of the Great Range,” Jennison explained. “The Glowing Mountain will be open to all of you from around our world. He believes that the Portizu Tribes should have a representative present in that meeting. Your suggestions will most certainly be needed in this time of impending crisis.”
Relu fell into a deeper silence, nearly in panic.
“Chief?” he asked.
Zazana peered upward with half-drunken eyes, swaying slightly against himself.
“You’ve seen them,” Zazana began. “Should we fear the accumulation of the Shadows?”
Reluctantly, and after some time, Relu nodded.
“Then it is settled,” the Chief continued. “I will represent the Portizu Tribes in your Light City. We leave—”
“No,” interrupted Relu. It had been the only time he had ever interrupted his superior. A strange sensation had overcome Relu. “You must stay here with your people. I will go.”
A silence filled the room.
“Relu…”
“You are making this decision based only on emotion,” Relu remarked. “The drink has done this to you. The diplomat has swayed your thinking. Take the night to sleep on your decision, my Chief, we can gladly reconvene in the morning.”
Jennison shifted.
“There is no time,” the diplomat mumbled. “We will have to leave at daybreak in order to arrive in time.”
If Relu understood one thing about Zazana, it was his impulsivity. He could not make this decision inebriated. All of the secrecy, the privacy they have built, seemed to hinge on a single yes or no.
“Chief,” Relu continued. “Allow me to go with the diplomat. I will act as representative and uphold the Portizu name. Our lands depend on us to make the right decision here.”
Zazana took a deep breath, then nodded in confirmation.
“Then it is settled,” Jennison confirmed, although he spoke as if not satisfied. “We leave at daybreak.”
So when dawn arrived, Chieftain Zazana was there to send the two men off in hopes of a brighter future amongst the Portizu and the Light, but if he was being honest with himself, he was not certain they would ever find the higher ground between them.
“Return safely,” Zazana told Relu. “The Tribes need you.”
And Relu nodded, bowed into minjori, and exited the Highlands Gates into places unknown.
“There it is,” Jennison mumbled. Pangs of hunger and soreness nearly broke him several times traversing the mountain pass, but out in the distance now, as they climbed out of the jungle and onto a steep, rocky precipice, the diplomat allowed his eyes to soak in the majesty of what lay beyond. “Home.”
Relu stared out into the stretching expanses of the Glowing Mountain, standing tall at the edge of the overlooking cliff.
“This is your city?” Relu asked.
Buildings danced along the horizon, drenched in a hazy glow of fog and mist. Even here, the jagged tops of the skyscrapers seemed beautiful, but he could not help but wonder if he would feel the same at closer range.
“The Light City has been through many trying times,” the diplomat murmured. Fatigue kept him from raising his voice. “King Altruit is rebuilding our structures in due time.”
But Relu could see it in Jennison’s weary eyes—nothing had been rebuilt in years.
“I could spend days telling you the history of our great city,” Jennison continued, “but you do not have time for that. We have business to attend to.”
A thin coating of sweat and rain had mixed into the fabric of Relu’s tunic. He smelled primal, uncivilized. His hands rested against the muscled curve at the bulge at his hips, supporting the overworked muscles of his lower back. He only rested when he slept and, even then, he felt it better to keep moving. If it were not for Jennison taking every chance to catch his breath, they would have reached the Light City a little before nightfall on their second traveling day. Instead, it had been the third.
“We are nearly there,” Relu said. “Push on with me. Daylight is vanishing.”
&n
bsp; Jennison breathed heavily, wiping a smear of perspiration from his forehead with the sleeve of his worn shirt.
“I see the way you look at it. I was born here—in this city,” Jennison continued. The nostalgic tone of his voice caught Relu off-guard. “It’s been like this for as long as I can remember. I know it is not what you expected it to be, but to me, it is the most valiant place in the Range.”
From where they stood, the buildings were anthills against the side of a growing rock facade. From ground level, however, those same buildings rose into the sky as monstrous stone, glass, and steel giants—exposed innards and all. How these buildings remained erect, swaying in the wind of an increasing altitude, none could understand.
“What happened here?” asked Relu. “The buildings are damaged.”
Jennison shook his head as if suddenly remembering a thought hidden somewhere deep within his brain.
“We grow up learning a great deal about our past,” the diplomat explained. “Nearly a thousand years ago, a revolution erupted in the Light Empire. The King’s army did its best to subdue the masses of angry citizens, but to no avail. The Cornerstone Uprising, they called it. It lasted three years and destroyed nearly the entire Light Empire in its wake. We’ve been rebuilding ever since. This,” Jennison continued, pointing out toward the Light City, “is progress. You should have seen it even ten years ago.”
“Your people have a story,” said Relu, “as do ours.”
Jennison only nodded solemnly. A strange silence overcame both of them—a quiet only known to minds riddled in thought.
“Come,” Jennison said, speaking through the discomfort. “More walking will do me good.”
The pair of travelers took the steepening paths slowly, so when they eventually hit flat land, their muscles and minds felt wearier than usual. The sun had all but vanished now and the blackening shade of nighttime had all but blanketed the countryside with the soft outline of twinkling stars. Somehow, it reminded Relu of home.
