The Realms of Animar

by Owen Black

  She had been born there, raised upon its numerous circular platforms and had planned to live out her days within the magnificently created wooden structures that had been built among the trees, connected by countless ropes and flowing bridge-like walkways.

  Her people were skilled carpenters, master artisans of wood trained from birth, and their talents were evident throughout the settlement. The structures in which they lived and worked were angular and unique, with intricate latticework, sloped roofs to facilitate the run-off of rain and arched, open walls that allowed each structure to breathe the air that was their life. Although they lived over a hundred feet from the forest floor, there were no rails around the platforms, no safety measures or other means to prevent falls. Quite simply, such measures were not needed for a population that could take flight in an instant.

  From the ground, there was but one point of accession to the sprawling habitat, a heavily guarded spiral stairway that ran up the central tree upon which Ovion had been constructed. This pillar of their home, an ancient, massive tree thought to be thousands of years old, was known by their people as the Tree of Life.

  Apart from serving as the rarely used entrance to the habitat for those who could not fly, the main platform also housed the civil structures where laws were passed, crimes reviewed and punishment handed forth. These were necessary tools in a strong thriving culture such as theirs, yet despite the arrogant belief that so many of its inhabitants maintained, theirs was not a perfect society, far from it. Sadly, this was a fact Trussil knew all too well.

  Ovion was spectacular and breathtaking and although never discussed, far beneath the community of beautiful people who cherished their idyllic lives spent soaring in the sky and living upon the amazing architectural wonder they called home, a much darker side to their world loomed. Ignored by their citizens, conveniently pushed aside from thought, it nonetheless existed, painfully close. Far below, dwelling in the shadows and buried under a canopy of trees and wood that cast the forest floor into everlasting darkness rarely pierced by light, there lurked creatures of a different nature, hungry and evil, anxiously waiting for the next to fall. They were the kind that fed the nightmares of the children above, their howls and moans at times lifting into the air and serving as a reminder to the Avians that they were not alone.

  Trussil landed on the large wooden platform and morphed seamlessly into her human form. Although she could hear voices nearby, mingled with the familiar sounds of countless birds waking to the morning air, no greeters awaited and no guards manned the outer platform. She was alone.

  A single wooden walkway, suspended by rope, led from the platform to more central areas of the habitat, where she could see people bustling about and paying her no attention. She was just another of their kind.

  As she crossed the bridge and more of the place she once called home came into view, Trussil was surprised how little had changed. For some reason she had expected something else, a sense of unfamiliarity perhaps. But, alas, she knew her way well.

  For weeks she had planned her return to Ovion. Although to many the return home might be a joyful moment, a blissful reunion to old friends and warm memories, Trussil had been terrified of the moments that drew near. Sleepless nights had kept her awake as she pondered her words to those that she intended to visit. Instead of stopping to visit long lost friends or distant relatives, she headed straight to the home of their leaders, carrying with her a heavy heart that struggled to conceal an emotional dam that threatened to burst at any moment.

  After a brisk walk across several bridges and platforms, past several faces who stared at her as they struggled to place her in their past, Trussil arrived at the home of Airulli and Illuria, leaders of Ovion, and the very souls that had crushed her spirit one fateful day so long ago.

  She glanced across the suspended walkway that led to the tree where their home stood and spotted the pair through a large open archway. They were seated side by side at a fairly ornate table, apparently enjoying a pleasant morning meal, sharing a laugh as they gazed out into the trees that surrounded them.

  The leaders of Ovion looked unchanged despite the years that had past. Like most Avians, they were beautiful and thin, of low to average height and dramatically high cheekbones and angular features. Airulli was of equal height to his twin sister and had short blonde hair while she had longer golden locks as straight as an arrow. Typical of the twins, they were dressed in the finest of clothes that utilized nearly every hue imaginable to emphasize their elegance. As Trussil began across the bridge, she was fairly certain she was about to sour the mood of the regal pair.

  Hearing her footfalls as she approached, Illuria was the first to notice their visitor. Her jaw dropped immediately and Airulli quickly turned to learn what had silenced his beloved sister. The shock that fell upon his face was a priceless treat that, no matter the outcome of their discussion, Trussil would cherish for eternity.

  The twins stood as she approached. Although a decade had separated them, there were no screams of delight or rushed embraces on this day. Time had not healed the rift between them. Nothing would.

  Feigning a smile, Trussil greeted them, “Airulli, Illuria, good morning to you both.”

  After a rather uncomfortable pause hung in the air, Airulli responded, “Alexandra Trussil, how…unexpected it is to see you.” He motioned to an empty seat across from them at the table. “You look tired so please, have a seat. Would you like something to eat? Some water perhaps? Berries?”

  “Oh no thank you,” Trussil replied. “My appetite has gotten away from me suddenly.”

  Airulli and Illuria glanced at one another, obviously aware of the insult that had been thrown at them.

  Trussil then pulled out one of the two empty chairs and lowered herself down. Her muscles ached; sitting was a relief. She watched as Airulli poured some water from a pitcher and handed her a mug.

  After a brief moment to collect her thoughts Trussil peered into the eyes of the twins. They were both beautiful, without question. In a society filled with stunning men and women molded from the finest stock in all the land, the pair sparkled like stars in the sky. To Trussil, however, due to a painful past they were vile and horrible, as if misshapen at birth or maimed by some unfortunate twist of fate. She struggled just to look upon them.

  Finally breaking the silence Illuria spoke. “Obviously you did not come here for a social call. You were quite clear when you left.”

  Trussil took a nervous sip from the mug. Her heart pounded. Maybe this was a mistake. She swallowed hard and replied, “This is not easy for me as you can probably tell. I can assure you that I would have not come back unless it was absolutely necessary. I…we…need your help and quite honestly, we do not have anywhere else to turn.”

  Illuria shook her head in disbelief and a sarcastic smile formed on her lips. She turned to her brother who had leaned back in his chair, not as amused.

  Before either of the twins could reply Trussil continued, “As you may know, I have lived for several years in a settlement far to the East where I have taught children, children I could grow attached to without…without concern. It’s mostly a herbivore village but there are a few others among us. I have had to adapt a bit which of course has been an adjustment. Any way, this settlement is sheltered from the rest of the world by a dessert and mountains, so for quite some time we have been able to live peacefully, happily. A few months ago a vulture that was working with a pack of coyotes stumbled upon us. We were able to fight them off easily enough, but it turns out they were minions of a vile carnivore leader who has been scouring the land in search of a special boy who happens to be one of my students.”

  “Another special student,” Illuria said with a smirk. “Of course.”

  “Cut to the chase Trussil,” Airulli added. “We know why you are here. Melodia told us she warned you of the carnivore attack.”

  Trussil was shocked.

  “Oh please,” Illuria said. “Don’t be hard on your friend. Y
ou know we are not easy to deceive. She didn’t divulge the location of your precious Avryn, not that we really care.”

  Airulli leaned forward. “And this boy, same age as Merik I suppose?”

  “No actually,” Trussil replied with a glare. “He is quite a bit older. Old enough to fend for himself if he was forced to. I’m shocked you actually remembered his name.”

  The bitterness in Trussil’s voice was accompanied by a tidal wave of memories that descended upon her at once.

  Years ago, back when Trussil still loved Ovion and her place in society was secure, the day finally arrived when Alexandra Trussil turned twenty and was at last able to choose a profession of her own. Like most Avians, she had considered this carefully for some time, eagerly anticipating the freedom that came along with a dedicated trade. With remarkable eagerness, Trussil quickly elected to become a teacher. It was an easy choice. Having a natural love for children she had wanted to teach for as long as she could remember.

  As was that of any new teacher or any new laborer learning a new skill, her first class was difficult and tested her patience regularly. She lied awake many nights pondering how best to communicate with her students effectively, relate to them without losing their respect and help their young minds grow strong. Despite her initial difficulties, Trussil adapted and honed her skills quickly. Her love for her students was apparent and word quickly spread throughout Ovion that she was a natural and her students adored her.

  Naturally there were some children she favored more than others and there was one such boy, a small wisp of a thing named Merik, whom she took a special interest in right away. From a large family of hawks, at just over eleven years old Merik was the youngest and smallest of them all. Although his species was known for its strength and hunting prowess, he was thin and frail with a ratty tuft of reddish hair atop his head and an assortment of freckles scattered about his face. Dubbed a weakling by his peers, he was often picked on and made fun of by the other children and even his own family. The boy simply laughed them off, his nature was such that all things were amusing. Jokes flowed from his lips with the skill of a master storyteller but Trussil knew that the boy used his charming personality to mask the pain of rejection that dwelled within him.

  One day Merik arrived at school with his right arm wrapped in a sling that was draped around his shoulder. His face was bruised and it was obvious that he had taken a nasty fall. Although Trussil suspected there was more to the accident then Merik would divulge, the boy insisted that he was merely attempting to fly when one of his brothers had accidentally bumped into him and sent him crashing into a tree.

  As the days passed it became obvious that the arm was not healing well. Already lacking in strength, the injury had left Merik incapable of flying, a devastating limitation with consequences known to all, including the boy and his teacher.

  In the weeks that followed, as is customary for those who cannot meet the standards of society, the boy was banished from his home. At eleven years old he was asked to fend for himself. Since he could not fly, this meant begging for food from friends, relatives and strangers, who all knew that he was labeled an outcast and not fit for their precious eyes. He was turned away, ignored and dismissed by all but one person, Trussil.

  Violating the rules of their society, she allowed Merik to stay with her. Because she lived alone and had no children of her own, this seemed like a reasonable request. Although there were some adjustments to make, the first few days together went well and, apart from the occasional glances from disapproving neighbors, Trussil began to form a strong bond with the boy. She hoped that in time he would be accepted by the others once again.

  Her hopes were dashed one morning when she was awakened by a large collection of people, including several armed guards, their leaders Airulli and Illuria and even the boy’s family. Unhappy about the violation of the standards of their society, the group demanded that the boy be removed from her home immediately. Through tears Trussil argued and fought their request but her cries fell on ears of those with hearts blackened by tradition.

  The dispute was instantly silenced as Merik slowly walked out of an adjoining room, his hair disheveled and still wearing his sleep clothes. Expressionless, he approached Trussil and glanced up at her briefly before walking past the group and out the door into the waiting morning. No words needed to be spoken. He had heard enough.

  As they watched him leave all but Trussil were satisfied that the right thing had been done. They expected the boy would now find his way to the forest floor and live out his days on his own, as all other outcasts had been required to do before.

  To their surprise he stopped near the walkway that led from the platform on which the house stood and, without looking back, leapt silently to his death, without so much as a scream to mark his descent. Trussil was alone in her cries of despair and moments later she left Ovion, swearing never to return. No matter what.

  Illuria sighed and looked at Trussil, “You should know that day was tragic to us as well. We went looking for his body but it had already been snatched up by the scavengers below. It was very sad but he was not fit for society. We have our rules.”

  Trussil rolled her eyes. “Some things never change. I don’t know why I expected anything more.”

  “Listen,” Airulli said. “There are rules that we all live by, perhaps some that need to be revisited, but nonetheless these rules have shaped our population for as long as we have been here. One of those involves not interfering with the lives of the other realms. The repercussions could be catastrophic. It seems war is becoming commonplace, we need to stay out of it as long as possible.”

  Trussil shook her head, “I’m not surprised Air. Your people have a history of not standing up for what is right.” She paused a moment and then decided it was time to play her best hand. “Tell me, how long has it been since The Farseer…disappeared.”

  Airulli glanced briefly at his sister then replied, “Dis-appeared is an interesting word for it. It’s been almost a year now. How did you hear about that?”

  “Despite what you might believe I still have friends in your world. Word of his demise spread quickly. He was a great man, revered by so many.” Trussil squinted and tilted her head a bit, “You really don’t know what happened to him do you?”

  Illuria was clearly upset. “He was old Trussil. Flying had become difficult for him. He likely just wandered off on his own or fell off a platform. Why would you bring up the death of our father now?”

  “Because I believe that he was taken by the very man who intends to attack our people. The carnivores have a person they refer to as an oracle, supposedly of another realm, and this oracle can see things with his mind. One of the carnivores told us that this mystic was captured about a year ago. I think it’s quite obvious.”

  The twins looked at one another with shock covered faces.

  “How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Illuria asked.

  “You know me,” Trussil replied. “I don’t lie. They plucked the Farseer out from right under your noses. Still think this is not your fight?”

  Airulli stood up. Anger coursed through his veins. “We have to get him back.”

  “Mordigal can lead you there,” Trussil said. “Help us defeat the carnivores and he will take you to where your father is imprisoned. You have my word on that.”

  Illuria shook her head. “Mordigal. Of course. Why am I not surprised he is involved in this.”

  Trussil ignored the comment. “So, will you fight with us?”

  Illuria rose and glanced at her brother. Together the twins turned to Trussil. Their answer was obvious. For the first time since the dawn of their kind, the Avians were going to war.

  Chapter 31

  Cold rain fell upon the three brothers in unrelenting force as if they had somehow angered the heavy dark clouds that loomed above. They struggled to navigate the now muddy forest floor and tried to ignore the occasional thunder clap that shook the earth and reminded them tha
t the end of the storm was nowhere in sight.

  Nearly three days had passed since they had separated from Mordigal and Caballus and the brothers had made good progress. Their journey had taken them to the southwest where they had followed the diminishing mountains until the range gave way to a dense, tree-lined hillside through which they now worked. Despite their efforts they were still several days from the first known settlement and the most difficult stretch was yet to come.

  Splotch ducked under a low tree branch, wiped the rain from his face and turned back to check on the others. Blotch was the closest to him, trudging along merrily while he hummed a familiar tune as if the pelting rain was merely an after thought. Splotch tried to recall the song, something their mother used to sing to them, but he just couldn’t place it.

  Clotch was a bit father back, grimacing with each step, clearly bothered by his wounded leg. He was a stubborn one and they had helped him along at times but always with a great deal of resistance. Splotch was naturally worried about him, as he had been for the majority of their lives.

  The brothers were triplets, identical to all but that blasted horse Caballus - and they would surely have to find out his tricks - but Splotch himself had long ago defined the characteristics that made them each unique.

  Being the oldest, albeit mere seconds before the others, Splotch had been dubbed the protector of the group. Although his wit was not quite as great as his brothers he was the strong one, the leader among them, the one that made decisions. Mother had assigned this responsibility to him long ago and he was determined not to fail. He would give his life for them. They were everything.

  Blotch was the funny one, always ready to spin a joke or tale. He could entertain the most drab of men during the most depressing of times. Children loved him and women were drawn to him like a magnet. He would be the first to marry, no question about that and, if they were lucky, his children just might inherit his charm.