Rhydian: The Other Side

by Devan Skyles

  “Then you can sneak back to Corvus and reveal Redwing’s plan. You can have your name cleared and be free.”

  “You mean we, right? Not just me. We would both go back and get our names cleared.”

  Rhydian fell silent.

  “Rhydian, what’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?”

  “I can’t go back. As long as my father’s timekeeper is in Ilimíra, it’s a liability. I’m a liability.”

  “Yeah, but only for the next few days, and then they’ve missed their chance, right? So, go away for a week or so and then come back.”

  “Then what’s to stop someone from doing the same thing ten years from now, just like Nicodemus said?”

  “So destroy the thing! This is crazy! You’re just going to leave forever? What, live like a human for the rest of your life?”

  “I can’t destroy it, Auram. Remember what the book says? If you destroy a master timekeeper, it— I don’t know, it weakens the barrier or something. It could cause the rift.”

  Auram, conflicted, stood in stunned silence for a while before saying with resolution, “Take me with you.”

  “What? Auram, you couldn’t live on the ground. You’re always telling me how ludicrous it is.”

  “What, you think you can do it and I can’t? I can learn to be human. I could even learn to pilot one of those flying machines you’re so crazy about.”

  “Auram…”

  “What? I don’t have anything to go back to. I’m clearly not soldier material. Do you not want me to go with you?” He was becoming distraught now. “We grew up together. You’re the only family I’ve got and you’re not leaving without me!”

  Rhydian walked over and hugged his friend. “Okay, brother. I’ll take you with me.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. I’m not going anywhere without you.”

  They stood there in silence, soaking in their new reality for a while. They had grown up planning and pretending to have grand adventures, to explore and become famed heroes. They had played out so many fantasies over the years, but not one of them had ever ended with them running away to the other side forever. But at least they’d be doing it together, like they’d always intended.

  “Just wait until you try the ravioli,” said Rhydian.

  “Ravioli?”

  “Oh, yeah! And Chilidogs! You have to try chilidogs!”

  “What are they?”

  “It’s— well, it’s meat, I think. But on bread, and with this brown goop poured on top. And they melt this yellow stuff onto it called cheese. It’s a little messy to eat, but completely worth it!”

  “That sounds thoroughly unappetizing,” he replied.

  They continued to push on through the brush, Rhydian describing the various other human delicacies he’d tried, when he cut down the frond of a large fern in their path and found himself staring down the shaft of an arrow, drawn back along a bow. He stopped so fast that Auram walked right into his back.

  “Hey, what the—” Auram stopped short when he saw what had halted them.

  A large creature standing on four, strong legs stood before them. It had a lithe, muscular body like a large jungle cat, but where the head would normally be, a humanoid torso rose, with rippling arms and clawed fingers. Its head was catlike in that its mouth and nose protruded slightly. Its eyes, big and green, pierced through them with an intense fierceness. It had pointed ears that stuck out from beneath a long, black mane of hair that surrounded its head and ran down its back. Its entire body, from its head to its tail, was covered in a sleek, black fir. Many beads and feathers were strung into its mane, and Rhydian couldn’t help but wonder if they were trophies taken from Ilimíri warriors it had killed. The creature curled back its lips, revealing a set of menacing, curved fangs and a deep, rumbling growl emanated from the back of its throat.

  Auram’s first instinct was to take flight, but he knew he’d never be able to fly through the dense vegetation. He also recalled what Taya had taught him: “The moment you start flapping instead of fighting, you’re dead. If you’re on the ground with the enemy, you need to fight on their terms.”

  “Drop your weapons,” The creature demanded in a deep, rumbling voice that sounded almost like a roar. He pulled the arrow further back along the bow.

  Rhydian was paralyzed with fear. He knew he could not attack faster than the creature could loose his arrow. So he did as directed and dropped his sword on the ground. Auram, after a moment’s hesitation, did the same.

  No sooner than their weapons hit the ground did two more of the creatures emerge from the brush on either side of them. Their movement through the vegetation was so swift and silent they were like ghosts. Rhydian and Auram had had no idea they were there, so close they could have reached out and touched them. These two were different, somewhat smaller, perhaps six feet tall, and they had no manes around their heads. Their frames were more slender, but still strongly built. Rhydian could see that these were fierce, dangerous beasts you didn’t want to tangle with.

  The creatures swiftly rushed in and grabbed Rhydian and Auram by the wings and forced them to their knees. One of the creatures, with intense, bright yellow eyes and slightly more grayish fur, bared her wicked fangs and hissed menacingly.

  “What are you doing in our forest, cloudwalkers?” the darker of the two said. It occurred to Rhydian upon hearing this one speak that the smaller two must be females.

  “W-we were just trying to escape an attack,” Rhydian stammered. “We were being chased and we came here to get away.”

  “Typical cloudwalker,” the big male sneered. “Turn and flee rather than fight.”

  “Where was this battle you ran from? There has been no fighting near here.”

  “No,” Auram chimed in, “not on the ground. In the sky.”

  The yellow-eyed creature gave a look of what Rhydian could only guess was surprise. “The wingfolk fight amongst themselves now? What savagery! What kind of creature makes war on their own kind?”

  “Ilimíri don’t always see eye-to-eye,” Rhydian offered. “Have the ground-dwellers never fought with each other?”

  “Grimalkin conflicts are none of your affair!” The male scolded with a growl.

  “They may be spies,” suggested the darker female, drawing a cruel, hooked dagger and pressing it against Rhydian’s neck. “We should kill them!”

  “No!” Auram pleaded, struggling against the ground-dweller’s hold.

  Rhydian felt the sharp edge of the forward-raking dagger bite into his skin slightly, a drop of hot blood trickling down his neck. The females looked to the male holding the bow.

  “Yes,” he growled. “They are enemies trespassing on our land. Kill them both!”

  Rhydian panicked as the dagger pressed harder against his neck slicing his skin.

  “WAIT!” he exclaimed. “My father was Eaglehide!”

  Suddenly the attack halted and all three Grimalkin’s eyes were on him, stunned expressions plain on their faces. Auram looked equally puzzled.

  The yellow-eyed female looked at the male in alarm. “Could this be true?

  The male Grimalkin came within inches of Rhydian’s face, growling deep in his chest, then snapped his teeth shut. “You lie!” He could feel the creature’s hot, angry breath on his skin.

  “No. My name is Rhydian Gideonson. Warlord Gideon was my father, the man you call Eaglehide.”

  He looked Rhydian over briefly, even sniffing him, then stepped back. “Open his wings!”

  The dark female stretched his wings open, displaying the rust-red and mottled black and brown plumage.

  “You do resemble Eaglehide. You have the same features, the same scent,” the male admitted. “But if you are truly his son, you will know his legacy. Tell me how he died.”

  Everyone turned their gaze to him, anxiously awaiting his reply. Rhydian was uncomfortable with the question, though if it helped them survive, he was happy to answer.

  “He— he died fighting in the war.
He came to the ground to negotiate a treaty, but he was betrayed and killed by— by your people.”

  The male rose to his full, terrifying height and snarled, “That is NOT how he perished! You are not his son!”

  “Perhaps he was never told,” the yellow-eyed creature suggested.

  “Perhaps,” he conceded. “It makes little difference. The Chieftain Lord will know. Bind their wings!”

  Without a moment’s hesitation, the two females cut vines from the trees and used them to bind Rhydian and Auram’s wings closed tight against their backs so they couldn’t take flight. They then retrieved their fallen swords and marched them through the dense forest. The male and the dark female both seemed impatient with the slow rate of speed at which their captives were walking. They were not accustomed to the terrain (or walking much at all for that matter) and with their wings tied down, their balance was awkward and clumsy.

  “Speed up!” the darker female hissed.

  “We’re going as fast as we can,” Rhydian said. “If you would untie us, we could keep up a lot more easily. We can’t fly in this dense forest anyway.”

  “You will not be untied!” the male barked, the beads in his hair rattling as he turned abruptly.

  Their feet were soon cut and blistered and their muscles began to tense and fatigue. They hadn’t had any ilïmbalm for several hours, and they were beginning to tire tremendously. Their stomachs growled with hunger. As the afternoon grew late, the canyon floor darkened significantly. This didn’t seem to affect the Grimalkin even slightly, but Rhydian and Auram were beginning to stumble through the darkening woods, tripping over unseen roots and bumping into branches in their path.

  “Pitiful wingfolk!” growled the leader. “Are you intentionally slowing us down?”

  “We’re not used to the ground,” Rhydian explained.

  “And we can’t see in the dark,” Auram added.

  The yellow-eyed Grimalkin spoke up in their regard. “Perhaps we should make camp here for the night and let them rest until morning.

  “They could have reinforcements in the area,” he replied. “Do you want to get caught in an ambush, young sister?”

  “I believe the cloudwalkers might be telling the truth,” she said meekly. We have seen no enemy activity in this area for several weeks. Perhaps they really did come here to escape an attack.”

  “It seems a foolish place to escape danger.”

  “That’s what I told him, too,” Auram interjected.

  “Silence!” he roared. “We will make camp by the river tonight. But tomorrow you will increase your speed.”

  Rhydian, in his weariness, interjected. “We can only go so fast. We need food and ilïmbalm to keep up our strength.”

  The leader seemed not to hear his pleas. Instead, he ordered them to push on through the brush into a small open clearing near a broad, flowing river. Rhydian and Auram were relieved to have flat ground to walk on. The cool, wet sand of the beach felt wonderful on their sore feet.

  The Grimalkin settled down on the ground and pulled out three large pieces of meat, still on the bone, from a satchel. Distributing it amongst themselves, the three of them ripped into the raw meat with their long, curved teeth, blood dripping to the ground. Rhydian and Auram watched the gruesome display in horror.

  When the big leader had eaten most of the meat off the bone, he tossed it onto the sand in front of the two captives. Bits of shredded flesh and sinew clung to the bone.

  “Eat,” he ordered plainly.

  Rhydian looked at the creature with disdain. “We’re not animals!”

  “You said you needed food, and I supplied it for you,” he retorted. “If it’s not good enough for you, don’t eat it! When I was a prisoner, I was given nothing!”

  “You were a prisoner of war?” Auram asked.

  He didn’t reply, just huffed curtly and turned away.

  “So, what do we call you?” Rhydian prodded.

  “Our names are of no consequence to you,” the darker female replied, not bothering to look up from her meal.

  As the sky became dark through the gaps in the trees, the Grimalkin settled down on the sand to sleep. Auram, exhausted, had already fallen asleep.

  “I’ll take the first watch,” the yellow-eyed female volunteered.

  When the other two lay down and drifted off to sleep, she walked over to Rhydian, her movements lithe and graceful.

  “Please forgive my siblings,” she said in her soft, strange accent. “We have learned the hard way not to trust the wingfolk.”

  Rhydian nodded, not sure what to say.

  “You can call me Brighteye, and my brother and sister there are Blackmane and Liris. Tell me, are you really Gideon’s son?”

  Rhydian got the feeling she was different from the others. He even found her voice a bit soothing.

  “Yes,” he answered simply.

  “I was too young to remember the great Eaglehide. I was only a cub at the time, but I know the stories well.”

  “Most of what I know about him comes from stories, too,” he admitted. “My people often recount the epic tales of the great Warlord Gideon and his deeds in combat. But to me, he’s mostly a father I never got to grow up with.”

  “I too lost my father in battle. I fought beside him when he died.”

  “So, your father was a warlord, too then, just like mine.”

  “We never referred to Eaglehide as a warlord,” she replied. “He was a man of peace. You said my people betrayed him. Is this one of the stories your people tell?”

  “Yes,” he replied. “He’s known as the Martyr of Shïnnía, the battlefield where he was killed.”

  “That is not the story I have been told,” she replied.

  “How do your people tell it?”

  “The Eaglehide became a friend and an ally of the Grimfolk. He fought bravely by our side until the day—”

  “Brighteye!” Blackmane scolded, sitting up and looking at her sternly.

  “Forgive me,” she whispered, slinking away back to her companions.

  Rhydian couldn’t believe what he’d heard! His father, fighting with the enemy against his own people? It made no sense. And if it was true, why would history record him as a hero.

  The Pale Giant

  Rhydian didn’t sleep that night. He sat on the beach listening to the lapping of water against the sandy beach. The forest was mostly quiet, but there were so many questions running through his mind that he just couldn’t bring himself to close his eyes. He waited long hours for the sun to shine through the trees, but of course, at the bottom of the canyon, the forest canopy merely got marginally brighter as the sun rose overhead. His stomach rumbled and ached with hunger, and he briefly considered picking up the raw bone from the sand and salvaging what meat was left of the meat. His muscles also began to cramp and weaken from ilïmbalm deprivation. His body desperately needed the unique nourishment it provided.

  Liris was keeping watch when Auram woke and looked at their surroundings.

  “Great,” he grumbled, his voice rough and hoarse. “Still having this nightmare.”

  “Let’s move out,” Blackmane ordered, shaking wet sand from his fur and slinging his bow over his shoulder.

  Brighteye stretched her whole body and yawned, showing her long, pointed teeth.

  “Get some water,” Liris ordered them. “We don’t stop again until we reach the Chieftain Lord.”

  “And just who is this Chieftain Lord, anyway?” Auram inquired as he and his friend knelt by the river to drink.

  “The pale giant,” Brighteye answered. “Grimalkin king.”

  “King?” Auram replied. “Like, king of the ground-dwellers?”

  “He is our greatest warrior,” she answered. “He fought his way to leadership, and now reigns over the seven factions.”

  “So, what happens to us when we meet your king?” asked Rhydian.

  “You will be judged and sentenced,” Liris replied coolly.

  As soon as they we
re finished drinking, the Grimalkin marched them again through the forest. This time, however, they traveled along the river, which was far less laborious. By midday, they came upon a section of the river that narrowed and pounded over rocks and boulders with a deafening roar. The air was full of mist from the cascades, and a rare ray of sunlight streamed down through the towering treetops, creating a perfect rainbow over the tumultuous white water.

  “We’re almost there!” Brighteye shouted over the roar of the rapids. “When you meet the Chieftain Lord, keep your gaze low! Do not look him in the eye!”

  They nodded their concurrence. Before long, the ground dropped away before them and the river blasted out into the air before showering down the sheer cliff before them and into a large pool at the base. Around the pool was gathered a multitude of a hundred or more Grimalkin.

  Their captors urged them forward. At first, Rhydian wondered if they were meant to jump off, until Liris said, “Climb down.”

  “What? W-we can’t!” Rhydian contended. “Our bodies are made for flight, not scaling rock faces. We’ll fall!”

  “If we untie your wings, you’ll fly away,” Blackmane growled through bared fangs.

  “Can you blame us?” Auram retorted under his breath.

  Blackmane raised one massive front paw and flexed his long, hooked claws, growling deeply. “You’ll climb down now, or I’ll THROW you down!”

  “They cannot do it, brother,” Brighteye interceded. “But we can carry them down.”

  Blackmane sneered. “I’ll not carry these filthy cloudwalkers on my back like some common beast of burden!”

  “I’ll do it then,” she replied, and without waiting for permission, she strode over to Rhydian and stooped low for him to climb on.

  Rhydian was hesitant at first, but then imagined the alternative option of being flung from the top of the falls. He swung one leg over Brighteye’s back and tentatively wrapped his arms around her upper torso.

  “Hold on tight,” she directed, and with no further warning, she leaped from the cliff, falling fast. A yell of terror forced its way from Rhydian’s lips as they plummeted, but their descent stopped short as she landed delicately on a small rock protruding from the cliff that Rhydian would never have thought capable of supporting them. They were only there for a fraction of a second before she leaped again to a ledge, no wider than her paws, and sprung down from foothold to foothold at the speed of light, expertly navigating the treacherous rock face. Within moments, she alighted gracefully at the foot of the cliff, as if it was the most natural action in the world.