by Gwynn White
“And we’ve arrived,” said Thatra, pointing to the wall on the opposite side of which they entered. With a wet crackling, it split open. Her warm smile radiated around the room. “Welcome to Eldham!”
Chapter Nine
They followed Thatra through the quivering slit in the wall. Moving through a dark corridor, air rushed back and forth in long, pulsing drifts, lifting their hair and blowing it about. Liam considered inquiring about the strange occurrence, but ultimately determined he didn’t want to know the answer. The light at the end grew brighter as they neared the exit. Only a few feet away Thatra turned back, a look of concern on her face.
“I must warn you,” she said, looking at Viola. “My people are virtuous and kind, but not all are as open minded as I. We have lived here in peace for centuries, with virtually no dealings with outsiders. Owen and Xavier are the only humans we have contact with, and we certainly don’t have any dealings with—” She paused.
“Laberaths,” Viola stated plainly, refusing to look away.
“Yes,” Thatra admitted quietly. “Although we were aware of Owen’s plan shortly after the laberaths made contact with him, not everyone here was so open to the idea. Now that they’re going to see you in the flesh, you may in fact be treated with...indifference.”
“I’ve grown used to hiding from the public eye,” said Viola, nervously wringing the bottom of her shirt. “I don’t mean to be a burden. It is kind of you to bring me in, but I didn’t ask for any of this.”
“No, you did not,” Thatra agreed. “But the fact that the laberaths want you so badly has forced others into action. Keeping you safe from them is too important to leave up to chance. And as for whether or not you’re a burden, that is not for me to decide.”
“Then I must ask you,” said Liam. “Whose shoulders would bear the weight of such a decision?”
“It is time,” said Thatra, ignoring his question and leading the way out from the dark pod.
“You’ll see soon enough,” said Owen, thumping Liam on the chest as he passed by.
When they stepped out into the sunlight, a whole new world opened up before their eyes. High above, flimsy-looking bridges connecting massive trees swung and swayed. Intertwined with those bridges were huts made with some kind of bamboo. Lights flickered from behind stained-glass windows. It was practically an entire village stashed high up in the trees.
Strung in long lines from tree to tree were paper globes of all varying colors, each with a tiny candle burning within. The flickering lights made their shadows dance across the ground as the globes swayed in the light breeze. The charred remains of open fires still glowed with orange embers, their thinning black smoke coiling up into the air. However, despite the obvious signs of civilization, there didn’t look to be a soul anywhere in sight.
With a thundering rumble, the pod behind them recoiled, writhing its way back down into the ground. Bulging dirt glided away, the wave of rising grass heading for the largest tree any of them had ever seen. It was the only tree in sight with snow-white bark. Large leaves fanned out from every branch, blue as the sky and each bigger than a man. There was little doubt that this was the boxa tree Thatra had spoken of.
“It’s all so beautiful,” Viola gasped, unable to stop staring at the huts above. “But where are your people? I don’t see anyone around.”
A flock of yellow birds burst from a bed of bushes, scattering high up to the treetops. In an eerie exhibit of silent movement, horned faces peered out from behind virtually every tree at once. A second ago the place was abandoned. Now, easily hundreds, possibly thousands of eyes all stared at the group. Each had either red or blond hair; no other color could be seen. Liam couldn’t decide which was more unnerving: how so many beings could remain so perfectly hidden in complete silence, or the angry glares each face seemed to cast. Even Owen seemed a little unsettled by it, and he knew these people far better than any other human.
“This is my world,” said Viola, her gaze sweeping the trees. “No one has said a word to me yet still I am unwelcome.”
“I warned you of our general feelings towards outsiders,” said Thatra. “Make no mistake, you are perfectly safe here. But don’t expect to make friends anytime soon. Regardless, their opinions of you matter little. There is only one here with the authority to judge your merit. Come, Assirra is waiting.”
They followed Thatra up to the great boxa tree. Up top they could see a large structure seated on a wooden platform. Rickety steps strung together with vines wound the base of the tree, spiraling their way around the white trunk. With no railing and each step only two feet in width, the climb was horribly intimating to any other than a nimble tarrin. Showing no hesitation, Thatra began the climb, hopping her way up with confident grace. After only a few turns completed, she glanced down at the others, who still had yet to commit.
“What are you waiting for?” she shouted down, irritation seeping into her voice. “Don’t tell me you’re all afraid of a little climb.”
“Bah,” Liam gasped, feigning insult as his hands rose to his hips. “Why, certainly not!” He gently grasped Viola by the shoulders. “After you, my dear,” he said, giving her a slight nudge.
“Out o me way!” Owen barked, jumping onto the first step and proceeding to ascend the steps with ease. Odd that a man so large would have such minimal difficulty navigating the narrow path. The old steps creaked in protest with each heavy stomp. Xavier followed, displaying a much lighter touch as he zipped up with minimal effort.
“All right...all right...here we go,” Liam mumbled, bouncing on his toes while clapping his hands, yet still showing no signs of commitment.
“I’ll go first,” said Viola, moving up to the first step.
“Good idea!” Liam exclaimed, a bit too much relief revealed in his tone. “That way I can...you know... I can catch you if something... Yes...well, here we go.”
After rising ten feet or so, Liam clung to the side of the tree with wide-open arms, inching along with each crab-like side step. “This is absurd!” he complained, willing himself to take the next step. “Who wouldn’t put a rail on something like this?”
“Hey, mystic,” came a taunting call from above. Foolishly, Liam glanced up, regretting his decision almost immediately. There stood Owen on the top platform, dangling his foot over the edge. “Ooo, Ooo I’m going to fall,” he teased, cackling at Liam’s struggles.
“That’s not funny!” Liam shouted, closing his eyes while bear-hugging the tree. He felt a cold touch, a small hand taking his. He opened his eyes to Viola urging him to keep going with her aid. Embarrassed, he accepted her help and continued the climb, trying his best to maintain what was left of his dignity.
When he and Viola finally reached the platform, the others were waiting patiently, tight-lipped smirks worn by all. “Well then,” said Liam, tugging at his damp shirt, rings of sweat darkening the underside of his arms. “I’ll have you know that Viola handled the climb just fine.” He patted her on the head like a dog. “Brave girl... So, let’s go inside, shall we?” Thatra rolled her white eyes, then turned and led them through an entryway covered by long, beaded strings that clacked when she swiped them aside.
Inside, the sweet scent of burning incense lingered in the air, a pleasant fragrance hinting of mint and cinnamon. Animal-skin rugs lay scattered about, with more furs of exotic animals seemingly hung from every wall. The beaded door across the way clacked loudly when a tall figure entered, even taller than Thatra. Long blonde hair danced about her shoulders, its light color highlighting her bright-red lips. Atop her head sat a tall, elegant feathered headpiece that fanned out like the tail of a peacock, colors alternating between white and red. Her mostly white eyes had a strange blue tint them, making them stand out when compared to the other tarrins’.
“Welcome to Eldham,” she said, removing the tall headpiece and setting it aside. Her large gold hoop earrings swung about, shimmering as they caught bits of light. “I am Assirra, High Cleric of the tarrins.”
Owen, Xavier, and Thatra all dropped to one knee, heads dipped low. After a brief hesitation, Liam did the same. He wasn’t actually sure a mere cleric deserved such tribute, but who was he to question their ways? Viola remained standing, curious of everyone’s sudden change in behavior. Liam tapped on her leg to no avail. She didn’t understand.
Assirra stepped forward, cupping Viola’s face in her long, spidery fingers. “So this is the specimen,” she said, grinning, her bluish eyes eagerly roaming up and down Viola’s face.
“Your people can’t seem to make up their minds,” Viola responded softly. “I’m still not sure if I’m a thing or a specimen.”
“Viola, please,” Liam intervened in a hushing tone.
“Nonsense,” said Assirra, dismissing his words with a spidery twitch of fingers. “She speaks her mind, unbound by the rules of etiquette. Innocence in its purest form. I shall not be the one to manipulate her innocence, for soon enough, the world shall do it anyway.”
Liam rose from his kneeling position. “I beg your pardon, Assirra, but do you have a superior, perhaps a ruler that we may speak with? In other words, who is it that you answer to?”
The glare she shot Liam was nowhere near the tolerant, forgiving look she had given Viola.
“How dare you!” Thatra shrieked, springing up from her feet. “Are you challenging the authority of the High Cleric?!”
“I challenge nothing,” Liam replied, empty hands rising up defensively. “I have no doubt our cultures are different in a number of ways, but my question was an innocent one. In your own words, you introduced yourself as a high cleric, a woman representing the gods, and someone to be respected for certain. But in my culture, that title holds little weight when compared to an empress, queen, or any other sovereign ruler. Please forgive my ignorance in your ways of social rank, but it would appear you are ignorant of mine as well.”
Thatra shook with rage, her white eyes narrowing into thin slits. But Assirra held up a calming hand, even smiling at Liam. “There is nothing to forgive,” Assirra assured him. “But I must admit, your words have already taught me much about your race. You seem to find it odd that a woman who speaks through our god Odao, bringer of life and vitality, would have the same authority as a king who lines his pockets with gold he stole from his own people. But as I understand it, if one calls it a ‘tariff’ then it is no longer theft. I fear you might be correct. It is clear our cultures are vastly different.” She brought a long finger up to her lips, pondering. “I can’t help but wonder which of our races is doomed, and which shall thrive in the coming centuries.”
Liam began to speak in defense, but slowly closed his mouth and looked away. Now was not the time for such petty arguments. Besides, Assirra’s words made a lot more sense than he cared to admit.
“Well, I’m sure you’re all tired from your journey,” she said, motioning towards the beaded door from which she entered. “As my special guests, later this evening we shall all dine together, united in the eyes of Odao. But first, I shall show you to your quarters so you may rest.”
His clouded mind still in a haze, the human heard a hissing sound that seemed to come from all around him. The pungent scent of sulfur assaulted his nose, alerting him to open his eyes. Red eyes stared back at him, black lips curled up in a fiendish grin. His eyes jetted wide open, horror gripping him as the memory of his whereabouts came flooding back. “Oh no. No!” he cried out, thrashing helplessly against the restraints. “There are hundreds here to choose from. Please, choose another. I’m begging you!”
“Oh no... Please, no,” Orm’rak mocked, emphasizing each word tauntingly. Even after countless years of feeding on fresh humans, their predictable responses never ceased to amaze him. “I find it fascinating how consistent you humans are. As if somehow your individual life is so much more precious than the next. I must ask, what exactly is your life worth to you?”
“I’ll do anything you ask,” he whimpered, drool and mucus dripping from his chin. “Just put me back up and choose another. I’m not ready to die!”
“And this is what I’m talking about,” said Orm’rak, moving up closer to his prey. “This lack of loyalty towards your fellow humans. This willingness to sacrifice another without hesitation, only to cling to your meaningless existence for just a little longer. Where does this cold, unrelenting survival instinct come from? After all, you’re already dead. Whether that’s today, tomorrow, or next year.”
“Please,” the human begged again, head thrashing back and forth. “I’ll be your personal slave. I’ll be whatever you want. Just choose someone else!”
Orm’rak threw his head back and laughed. “What are you trying to cling to?” he asked, amused. “A second chance at eternal sleep? You would choose that over an honorable passing? Your final act of greatness will be to nourish the body of a superior race. A lowly human worm could achieve no greater honor, yet you shun my offering in an attempt to live out your days in a dreamless coma. I’ll never understand the minds of humans.”
Orm’rak moved closer still to the trembling man, his icy cold breath pulsing against his cheek. “Before I award you my gift, I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Some rather resourceful humans recently foiled my plans. Had they accepted my most generous offer, not only would they have been rich beyond imagination, but would have walked away with their lives. But unlike a groveling worm such as you, they risked everything to stand up for a cause even they don’t understand.”
Orm’rak turned away, rubbing his chin in thought. “Perhaps you’re not all alike as I once believed. That is indeed...interesting.” He spun back with a blur, icy cold nose pressed to the man’s forehead. “However, my contacts on the surface world have discovered their location. If they think they can hide among the tarrins, they are wrong. They have something that belongs to me.” He traced his finger down the man’s forehead, between his eyes, before clutching his throat. “And I want it back!” he screeched.
With a snapping crunch, his teeth sank into the man’s neck. Hot pain shooting through his neck, the man screamed, fully expecting to die. He would eventually, but it would be many hours later. Within that time, Orm’rak periodically stopped his slow feeding to casually outline details of his planned attack on the tarrins. Other times, he simply reminded the man of how horrible his death would ultimately be. The surge of adrenaline sweetened the blood, giving Orm’rak all the reason he needed to keep tormenting his victim with promises of continued pain.
Hours later Orm’rak left the chamber, wiping his mouth with a satisfied grin. He couldn’t deny his good mood this fine day. There was just something in the air. He could feel it. He went outside, and casually strolled through the empty streets of his underground city. “Ah Kraindoel, you truly are beautiful,” he shouted out to no one. “But you will not be my tomb. I’m afraid my lofty ambitions spread far beyond your confined borders.”
With that, his body swirled into a funnel of screeching black birds. The whirling tornado spun up above the city, settling near the main breach leading into a system of caves. A single step became a thousand, cave walls blurring past his vision as he blazed forward with impossible speed. He bent through twists and turns, zipping around corners without even slowing. Within seconds, the dazzling light of the surface world’s fireball came into view. He slowed, practically walking as he sauntered up to the main cave entrance.
Squinting against its dazzling brightness, he stepped from the mouth of the cave to a thunderous roar. Hundreds of laberaths cheered, slamming their blades together in a series of booming claps. Klashtons snarled and bucked, rattling the chains around their necks and wrists. Bodies more rock than flesh, their coal-black eyes seemed to glisten under the intense light of the fireball above. Orm’rak knew exactly where they were hiding Viola, and no resource would be spared. He would take no chances this time.
“Loyal subjects!” Orm’rak boomed, his powerful voice seeming to carry on the wind. “Too long have we been hidden from this
world, deemed parasites and driven deep down into a world of frozen stone. Well, I say the surface dwellers are the parasites and will die as such! Never have we been this close to our freedom. Never has it been so close to our grasp!”
More cheers rose, the cackling chirping of wild animals about to be released from their cages. “We have one goal,” he continued. “The girl must be found!” He pointed up to the blazing source of light in the sky. “Once the ritual is complete, this source of light and all it touches will belong to us.” He swept his finger in a long, sweeping circle. “Everything on the surface world...belongs...to...us. Onward we march!”
“Pass me that thing over there,” Owen grunted, juice dripping from his chin as he pointed a ways down the table. “No, not that thing. The other thing. The little red things.” Confused, the tarrin picked up yet another plate, glancing back with a hopeful look. “Yeah, give em here.”
“Have you no manners?” Liam scolded in a hushed but harsh tone. “Your own apprentice is a far better representative of our people than you are. You could learn a thing or two from him.” Xavier ignored them both, quietly slicing a piece of yellow fruit.
“Bah,” Owen grunted, taking the offered plate and slamming it down next to his own. Small red fruits hopped up and down, a few spilling over onto the table. “If they wanted to see me good table manners, they would of served some meat. Under the circumstances...I’d say I’m being downright enchanting!” He stabbed a rolling red fruit with his fork, and chomped it savagely as if it were to blame for his mood.
His point was well taken, though. No meat had been served, and it didn’t seem like any would be coming. Liam hadn’t asked outright if the tarrins were indeed adverse to the idea of eating meat, but the answer seemed rather obvious at this point. Viola pushed her food around in circles, her fork clinking against the bottom of the plate.
“Is everything all right, dear?” Liam asked. “If you can get past the mushy texture, these green ones here are actually quite good.”
