The Wretched Race (Epic of Ahiram Book 3)

by Michael Joseph Murano

  How am I supposed to find them in this jumble?

  Resolutely, she stepped into the chaotic mess and as her foot touched dozens of filaments at once, her mind was assailed by as many screaming voices and the braying of many animals. Overwhelmed and disoriented, she stepped back quickly, as if she had been bitten by an invisible snake.

  Too many voices, too many screams. I can’t tell them apart.

  “Up,” she said. A lightning bolt shot forth from her mouth and hit the ground in front of her. A thick plant-like object rose up, taking on the shape of a staircase. In the prevailing silence, Aquilina had not heard her voice when she spoke the word, but she was not disturbed in the least. Somehow, this silence comforted her. It reassured her, like the silence of a deep sleep or a quiet moment.

  Nimbly, the young girl climbed the stairs until she saw all the filaments encompassing the sounds of Tirkalanzibar. They looked like a lake continuously traversed by raging currents that overlapped and fought like fantastic sea creatures trying to drown one another. By now, the staircase had disappeared and Aquilina hovered over the blinding expanse below. But in Tyrulan, above and below were a state of mind, a mental representation of reality, something she knew how to take advantage of even if she could not explain it.

  Gazing on the chaos below her, she noticed a dark patch close to the center. She focused her attention on it and as a result, drew closer, then relaxed her focus and came to a halt a short distance above it. It’s a silent spot, the twelve-year-old reasoned. But there’s no silent place in Tirkalanzibar, so that’s odd. Maybe it’s Cahloon’s tent. She’s a powerful magician. She could create a silence like this. She was about to land inside the quiet space when her eyes glanced over the dull, monotonous, gray expanse of Tyrulan. Gray, she thought, Tyrulan is gray, but this spot is black. This is not the absence of noise. This is something else.

  Having dealt with the cursed words of the urkuun, she knew not to trust everything that existed in Tyrulan. Carefully, she backed away from the dark spot and looked at it from a safe distance.

  There’s something there. Something very big. If Cahloon’s tent is under it, then this object is blocking my way, she thought. But I need to find my parents quickly. Vily can’t wait. She gritted her teeth in frustration. Her previous Tyrulian excursions had been, with one exception, enjoyable. She would either find what she was looking for quickly, fight her nemesis and win, or leisurely observe Arkélad, the huge tree that signaled the presence of her friend, the one to whom she had given the dubious and somewhat sarcastic sobriquet of Snoring Man. The only exception was the one painful visit to Tyrulan when she witnessed the death of a young woman, the one who bore the brunt of her foe’s attack. This visit was different. She needed to find her parents quickly. That spot seemed to taunt her, daring her to set foot inside it, but she resisted and stayed her impetuous nature that wanted to find a quick fix, a fast remedy that would heal Vily. She shook her head and tightened her fists. I need to stay calm, she reasoned. I can’t panic. Vily will be fine. I don’t like that black patch. Maybe there’s a different way in.

  An idea sprung to mind, something she had not yet attempted. Without giving it a second thought, Aquilina moved away from the lake and then said, “Down. Below.”

  Her words became a vertical shaft that bore into the Tyrulian ground. Not hesitating, she dove into the chute and vanished below the surface and she continued to sink until the whole of Tirka, as it appeared in Tyrulan, was now overhead.

  “Stop.” She landed softly on the familiar gray surface she had just dug into. How this could possibly work, she could not explain, but Tyrulan’s functioning felt normal to her, the way a child would never question a waterfall or wind. Tyrulan was simply a different sort of playground.

  Aquilina willed to swim upward. Even though she stood still, she drew close to the bottom of the brilliant lake and was now seeing it from below. Arching her head up she could see the immense tangle of sounds from below. Contrary to what she had thought before, the filaments’ roots writhed and jiggled and were not bound to the Tyrulian soil.

  That’s it. I must be somewhere in the underground of Tirkalanzibar. No wonder it’s so quiet here.

  Carefully, she circled the dark region, looking for a gray spot that would indicate a trapdoor or an underground passage below Cahloon’s tent, but she couldn’t find any. The black spot was seamless. Aquilina was ready to abandon her search and go back to the real world when a flicker, a faint purple light, caught her attention. She stood and watched, and the light, or signal, appeared once more before vanishing.

  What could be flashing down below? she wondered. This is strange. Not waiting, she willed to go down and immediately began to move away from Tirkalanzibar. She could not tell how fast or how far she was going for nothing around her changed except that Tirkalanzibar progressively receded until it became just a faint flicker above. The purple light had now become a meandering trail that spiraled still deeper into Tyrulan. Aquilina landed—or Tyrulan stopped moving—next to the starting point of the strange trail, and the young girl stood speechless. The trail was not made of purple filaments as she had first supposed, which would have indicated that someone was walking and speaking slowly, rather, it was a pair of footsteps, something she had never seen before in Tyrulan. She had supposed Tyrulan to be the land where sounds took on shapes, and all shapes looked like plants or trees. Since Empyrean blood coursed through her veins, Tyrulan was providing her with a vision of sounds she could relate to. Her father had told her this was so because Empyreans loved all things that grew from the soil. She had accepted this explanation at face value and had not questioned it. But now, standing before a trail of blinking footsteps, she began to wonder about the nature of this strange world she was standing in.

  Aquilina placed her right foot next to the right footstep. They’re bigger than mine. They aren’t my footsteps. The young girl nearly panicked when she realized what that meant. Someone else is in Tyrulan. I’m not alone. She was about to jump out of Tyrulan when she remembered where she was. I must be deep within the earth. If I jump out, I’ll be crushed or buried alive. She gazed about her but could see nothing in the familiar grayness. She forced herself to calm down and then thought the matter over. So if someone can create footsteps when I can’t, then this person must be stronger than me. I’d better be very careful here. Slowly, she stepped forward, keeping the luminous track to her right. As she moved forward, the lit footsteps she had already passed faded away. Amazing. The person doing this is really powerful. She glanced back and was disappointed to see that her footsteps left no visible mark. Up and away, the lights of Tirkalanzibar twinkled like a faraway star. I’m somewhere so deep beneath Tirkalanzibar. I hope the person behind these footsteps can help me. Aquilina bounded ahead, moving as fast as she could along the meandering path that seemed to dig ever deeper within Tyrulan. It’s sort of odd, she thought, why isn’t this pathway straight? Why is this trail curving so much?

  The path then fell into a steep spiral that grew narrower the deeper it went until Aquilina found herself falling straight down a hole with luminous steps running along the circular wall around her. There was no end to her fall in sight. Suddenly, a hand jutted out of the nearby wall, grabbed her arm and pulled her in. The sensation was like falling into a pool of molasses—not that Aquilina had done so before. The sensation of cold, thick wetness, the feeling of loose mud scraping her face and hands, the inability to move or change positions, told her she was passing through a barrier. But just as abruptly, she was free and fell to her hands and knees on firm ground. Nimble as ever, she sprung back to her feet with a dagger in each hand. Oddly, she was not wet or dirty, and there was no sticky liquid stuck to her clothing.

  “Where am I?” She was surprised to hear her own voice. No filaments grew from the ground. I’m not in Tyrulan. How did I end up here?

  She stood on a small, green, sun-splashed mound overlooking a valley encased between two steep mountain walls that closed in pr
ogressively to her left until the distance between them became a narrow vertical slit. To her right, the valley gradually widened as the two mountain sides grew farther apart until the wall opposite to the mound where she stood disappeared entirely behind a bend. Across from her, a wide waterfall flowed gently into a lake below that nourished a river running the length of the valley. Aquilina noticed she was shielded from the sun by the wide branches of a tree behind her. She turned and gasped. The oak was gigantic, the largest she had ever seen. It was as if dozens and dozens of trees had climbed up the trunk of the tree and banded together, forming a forest-in-a-tree, as it were. The gnarly old trunk was fissured and blemished, and had lost a massive limb that lay beneath it. Still, it was full of vigor and strength, and Aquilina, who loved trees, knew she was witnessing something quite extraordinary. Where am I, she thought.

  “Young one, do you like to climb trees?”

  Startled, Aquilina tightened the grip on her daggers. The voice was friendly and nonthreatening, but she could not tell where it came from.

  “Over here,” the voice said. “Look at the tree you’re standing under, then over to the trunk, on your right. A little higher now … there.”

  The trunk must have been sixty feet tall, or more, and would require thirty or maybe forty kids her age joining hands to form a ring around it. Squinting, she looked to the right and gave a start. A three-story wooden house was perched across six powerful branches and on the balcony of the second story, a young woman with long charcoal hair was waving at her.

  “Would you like to climb the tree?” she repeated. Aquilina smiled and nodded. “Well then, come on up,” invited the woman as she walked inside the house. “I have a fresh batch of bread waiting for you.”

  Aquilina went to the trunk and was about to stick her dagger into the trunk to start her climb, when she hesitated. Something told her not to use daggers, and she stowed them away. She circled the tree and began forming a plan when the last rungs of a rope ladder fell next to her in a soft whoosh. She looked up and saw the woman bending down with her hands on her knees.

  “I didn’t mean you had to climb the tree with your bare hands,” she said in a gentle chuckle.

  “I can, though,” Aquilina said.

  “That may be so,” said the woman, “but we have little time and there is much I need to share with you.”

  This was enough to propel the young girl up the ladder. She climbed with dizzying speed, her feet barely touching each rung despite the sway of the flimsy ladder.

  “Hello,” said Aquilina jumping onto the platform. “Who might you be and why did you bring me here?”

  The woman smiled. “Spoken like a true Empyrean princess who is used to asking questions and receiving answers.”

  Aquilina crossed her arms and eyed the woman. “I don’t know what game you’re playing,” she began, reciting one of the well-honed sentences her mother had used on her at the palace, “but it would be best if you were to state your business and tell me why you brought me here.”

  The woman’s expression immediately lit up and she grinned broadly. “You, little one, will do just fine,” she said. “Why don’t you do me the favor of sitting with me, and I will answer your questions, Your Majesty.”

  “I’m not the queen yet. Your Highness will do just fine.”

  The woman turned and flashed another smile. Aquilina followed her across a sturdy bridge that linked the platform to the house. As she walked behind her host, she could not help but admire her regale attire. She wore a sleeveless gold dress held at the waist by a wide burgundy belt and soft leather sandals with silver leg laces. A gold ring with three topaz stones adorned her left hand, and singular black stone pendant hung from a gold necklace. What is she doing here, and where is here anyway?

  “Where are we?” she asked as they reached the house’s doorsteps. Then a wonderful smell of fresh bread made her nearly forget everything. “It smells delicious.”

  “I baked it just for you. Please come in, Your Majesty.”

  “Stop calling me that,” Aquilina said with a scowl on her face. She walked inside a spacious kitchen with a high ceiling and wide bay window that overlooked the waterfall and valley below. A large oak table whose surface had been smoothed by years of use stood in the center, and below the tabletop, pots, pans, and baskets of fruit and vegetables were stored here and there. A brick oven occupied the left corner opposite the door, and to its left, a tall sturdy closet stood with open doors, its shelves lined with jars filled with seeds and dried herbs. To her right, a second door led to a circular balcony where several large planters, overflowing with flowers and herbs, hung from branches. Aquilina closed her eyes and took several deep breaths.

  “This house feels right,” she said. “It just feels right. Everything here is beautiful.”

  “Well, thank you. It pleases me very much that you like my house. Please have a seat. You need to eat to regain your strength, then we will briefly talk.”

  She served her two hot buns, one with butter and cheese, and the other with a thick, syrupy, dark red spread. She then filled a mug with fresh water.

  Aquilina ate the food ravenously. She had not noticed how hungry she was and the food tasted so good, she wished she could go on eating it forever. Raising the mug, she guzzled the cool liquid and felt rejuvenated, her energy and focus sharpened. Aquilina had not realized how demanding her journey through Tyrulan had been. She set the mug back on the table and was astounded to see it was still full. She glanced at the woman, who simply smiled.

  “Was it good?” she asked.

  “Delicious. Way better than the palace. It’s the best food I’ve ever had,” the young girl replied. “But the mug? How is it still full? I drank all of it.”

  The woman raised a calming hand. “All in due time, my young one, time is of the essence, and there are more pressing matters you need to know about.”

  “Won’t you tell me your name?” Aquilina asked.

  The woman smiled again. “Names can be dangerous,” she explained. “Mine certainly is. Look out the window. What do you see? What is your heart telling you?”

  The sun now was shining directly on the waterfall, creating a rainbow. The valley below was resplendent in the shining light and high above, someone was singing a song in a haunting melody. Soon, other voices joined in and Aquilina realized it was a choir of women.

  “I wish I could stay here forever,” the girl replied in an altered voice.

  The woman’s eyes glittered. “Good. Very good,” she said softly. “Our time together is drawing to an end, but I am sure we will see each other again. Now, the silent world you stepped out of, the one where I left my footsteps to guide you, is a place where, as you know by now, every sound takes on a shape of its own.”

  “Oh,” Aquilina interjected, “you mean Tyrulan.”

  The woman gave a start and laughed. “Tyrulan. The name of a children’s game. Is that what you call it? How delightful and very appropriate. Well then, let’s call it that for now. One day when we have more time, I will tell you its real name. But for now, I must warn you, hostile creatures have managed to enter this world. You’ve just met one.

  “The black spot in Tirkalanzibar? That’s a creature?”

  The woman nodded. “It’s not black. Black is an elegant color without which all other colors lose their purpose. What you saw was a creature that absorbs sound. It is a shemmet.”

  “A shemmet?” Aquilina repeated for good measure. “What’s that?”

  “A creature of Tyrulan. Touch it, and it gets inside your mind and slowly absorbs your thoughts until there is nothing left of you.”

  Aquilina’s eyes widened. “Is the shemmet behind the vanishing? If so, I must defeat it.”

  “The vanishing? No, the shemmet is not related to the vanishing. What made you think so?”

  “My friend, Vily, she’s vanishing.”

  A fleeting shadow darkened the woman’s feature if for an instant. She shook her head. “I am sorry
to hear that. The shemmet doesn’t have this power, but if you want to help her, you must get around it. Don’t try to fight it, you won’t win. The shemmet is guarding a passage. Get it to move and you’ll be able to get inside Cahloon's tent. Do it quickly, otherwise the shemmet will destroy everyone in that tent, including your parents.”