Rhydian: The Other Side

by Devan Skyles

  Redwing looked around the quaint little cell with distaste. “Forgive the unpleasantries, Rhydian. It’s nothing personal. Have a seat.” He gestured at the bed.

  Rhydian said nothing, but remained standing defiantly.

  Redwing raised his eyebrows and continued, “Very well. I want us to be friends, Rhydian, I really do. But in order to be friends, there needs to be a certain level of trust. I need you to answer two questions for me. First question: Where did you get the ilïmbalm?”

  Rhydian couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He wasn’t arrested for using the secret threshold? Perhaps there was hope yet! He did not let the relief show on his face, however. His intense disdain for Redwing was still unyielding.

  “There’s going to be plenty for everyone soon enough,” he went on. “The human world is completely saturated with it. But, as I’m sure you know, their water is the only substance that will carry it across the barrier. And we found you in possession of the richest natural ilïmbalm anyone’s seen in over thirty years. So I’ll ask you again, Gideonson, where did you get it?”

  He said everything with a cocky, arrogant sense of self-importance that made Rhydian wonder how he could ever have gotten himself elected to a government office in the first place. He didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer.

  “Very well. We’ll move on to the next question. Where is your father’s timekeeper? The guards didn’t find it on you when you were arrested.”

  Rhydian was starting to see a larger picture forming. It occurred to him now that perhaps Redwing was the one who had sent the thugs to steal the timepiece in the first place. Either that or it had a value that everyone except himself was suddenly aware of. He remained stoic.

  “Fine!” Redwing shouted, clearly dropping the pretense of friendship. “It won’t matter for long anyway! Guard!” A moment later the door swung open. Before leaving, he turned and added, “Just know that I gave you the opportunity to cooperate.” And with that, he stormed out of the cell, shoving the guard out of his way as he passed.

  Before the guard could close the door entirely, a familiar, gruff voice called from down the hall. “It’s okay. I have permission from the warden.” In stepped Mr. Ferro, all a fluster.

  Rhydian was relieved to see a friendly face. Ferro’s bulk filled the door frame, tiny pinpricks of light shining through the innumerable burn holes in his blackened wings like twinkling stars.

  “I just heard the news!” Ferro exclaimed. “Don’t worry, Rhydian, I’m sure plenty of people will vouch for you. It’s got to be a misunderstanding.”

  “I hope so,” Rhydian replied. “I’m going stir-crazy in here.”

  Ferro peered around the drab, little room. “I can imagine.”

  “Don’t worry,” he reassured. “I’m sure I’ll be back at work first thing tomorrow morning.” He wasn’t sure he believed it, though.

  Ferro’s lips pursed and his head hung in distress. “I don’t know if that’ll be happening any time soon.”

  Rhydian didn’t understand. “Why is that?” he prompted.

  “Well, someone broke into the forge and ransacked the place,” he replied sullenly.

  “What?” Rhydian gasped.

  “Yeah, well, nothing appears to have been taken, but the place is a shambles. Doesn’t look like it’ll be up and running again for a week or so. My guess is they were looking for my ilïmbalm stores and didn’t find ‘em.”

  Rhydian’s heart filled with sympathy for his boss, but Ferro squelched that before he had a chance to say anything.

  “Don’t fret over me. You’ve got enough to worry about on your own. I’ll manage until I can get things going again.”

  The door opened and the guard peered in. “That’s enough time,” he ordered.

  Ferro nodded to the guard and turned for the door. Before it shut, however he shouted, “Just keep your chin up!”

  Rhydian had to wait another few hours, but finally, the door to his cell swung open and a new pair of soldiers stood waiting.

  “The Judges will see you now,” one of them said.

  They escorted him to a wide, outdoor courtyard at the west edge of the city. At the back of the courtyard was a dais with several seats lined up behind a central podium. Seated there were several men and women, uniformly dressed in traditional, white gowns and gold wreaths on their heads. These, Rhydian knew, were the local Judges Quorum, and among them sat Governor Redwing, a satisfied smile on his face. They were all engaged in seemingly trivial conversation one with another.

  There was a single chair in the middle of the courtyard facing the podium, where the two soldiers directed him to sit. As he did, everyone gradually ended their conversations and turned their attention to the proceedings about to take place.

  Rhydian, waiting nervously, noticed someone sitting behind the pulpit to the far left who was not one of the Judges. He was a very old man with gray hair. His face was unshaven and disheveled, and he appeared worn and tired with age. Rhydian knew the man as Nicodemus, a Grand Superior Gatemaker (the only one alive). He had gone into retirement after his son and daughter in law died in the same battle that took the life of Rhydian’s father. He now lived as a recluse far outside of town, and only served as an honorary member of the Gatemakers Guild. Now and then he would make an appearance for a formal occasion, but why was he attending a small, civil hearing?

  As if sensing Rhydian’s curiosity, Nicodemus looked down from the dais, locking eyes with him. Rhydian suddenly felt very uncomfortable and looked away.

  A moment later, a middle-aged, dark-skinned woman, whose feathers offered a vibrant contrast of red and blue, stepped up to the podium. Her long tail feathers swept far behind her as she walked, and in her hair she wore matching feathers that hung down the back of her neck (an old fashioned style). Rhydian had never seen such bright and exotic plumage before in his life. She was clearly from one of the far west nations of Ilimíra. The woman stood regally at the podium and addressed Rhydian indirectly.

  “Rhydian, son of Warlord Gideon, Martyr of the battle of Shïnnía, you are here under investigation of conspiracy. Your guilt is, as of yet, unsubstantiated pending the results of this hearing. Do you understand the charges?”

  Rhydian was puzzled. “Conspiracy, Madam Judge? Can you please clarify?”

  The woman looked up from her stack of papers and peered at Rhydian with intense, violet eyes. “It has been brought to the Quorum’s attention that you have been bringing home and spending copious amounts of pure, unprocessed ilïmbalm, though we have no record of any sources that currently supply ilïmbalm in this high a concentration. Therefore, we have reason to believe that you are operating outside the law to acquire it. Now, do you, Rhydian, understand the charges against you?”

  Rhydian swallowed through a lump in his throat. “I understand.”

  “Then we can proceed with the questioning,” she said, again looking down at her papers. “Where did you acquire this ilïmbalm, Rhydian?”

  He thought long and hard. Should he admit the truth and probably never go back to the other side? To Ellie? What would happen to her home if people heard of the wealth that lay there?

  “I was—” he started, unsure how he would conclude. “That is, the ilïmbalm was—”

  “Stop talking, Rhydian,” a firm voice commanded from behind.

  Rhydian turned, and soaring down to the courtyard beside him was General Corvus, accompanied by his mother, sick with concern.

  Corvus continued, “I’ve come to vouch for Rhydian during these proceedings, Madam Judge.”

  The woman at the podium raised her eyebrows in surprise. “I was unaware you were directly involved, General. We have witnesses stating that Mrs. Gideon, Rhydian’s mother, has been spending pure ilïmbalm; ilïmbalm that she herself says her son earned. What do you have to say for the litigant?”

  Corvus gave Rhydian a brief look of concerned inquisition, then shifted his gaze back to the woman. “He did earn the ilïmbalm,” he stated. “A
s I’m sure you know, Rhydian is an accomplished sword smith. Many of my Fleetmen personally request his weapons before deployment. He was working on a personal project for me.”

  Rhydian was flabbergasted! Corvus was blatantly lying to the council on his behalf.

  “I see,” the Judge replied.

  She looked over at one of the soldiers standing guard over Rhydian and gave a nod. The soldier, in turn, flapped across the courtyard and deposited a small bottle of ilïmbalm into her hand. She held the bottle up for everyone to see. Rhydian recognized it as his own.

  “Our experts examined this bottle of balm that was confiscated from the litigant upon his arrest. They testified that it is of the highest possible concentration, and that it is one-hundred percent raw, unprocessed material. As I’m sure we all know, the human side has only a handful of areas that can sustain a threshold, and the longer a gateway remains there, the more its energy neutralizes the ilïmbalm concentration in that area. Thus, such rich sources have not been seen in decades. Might I ask then, General, where you got such rich ilïmbalm to pay for his services?”

  “From my personal supply, Madam Judge. I thought he should get a taste of the good stuff. You know, from the old days.”

  Governor Redwing shifted in his seat, obviously perturbed.

  “Mrs. Gideon,” the judge addressed. “Where did your son claim to have earned this ilïmbalm?”

  “He didn’t tell me anything,” she replied honestly, “except that he had taken on extra work. He’s a good boy. An honest worker.”

  The judge seemed satisfied by the testimonies. “Very well,” she said. “Taking into consideration the statement of a highly respected leader in the community, this council will dismiss the charge of conspiracy.”

  For a moment, Rhydian’s heart lifted, and then she continued.

  “Now, I’m afraid there is another matter that has been brought to our attention by—” she sighed and rolled her eyes slightly, “—our newest elected council member, Governor Redwing.

  “He has proposed that Rhydian reserves no legal right to access the threshold system, as he is not registered with the Gatemakers Guild as an essential migrant. Moreover, he has, over the last few years, accessed the other side by means of his father’s timekeeper, which is considered by our laws to be a crime.”

  A smug, satisfied grin graced Redwing’s face. Rhydian couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Redwing had somehow manipulated the Council.

  The judge looked at Rhydian with an expression of sympathy, a look he’d seen so many times over the years. “Rhydian, I’m very sorry, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to surrender your father’s timekeeper.”

  Redwing stared at Rhydian in cool anticipation. Corvus fluttered his jet black wings, only glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. His mother began to weep quietly.

  “I— I don’t have it,” Rhydian said. He couldn’t bear the thought of giving up the only piece of his father’s legacy he possessed.

  “What do you mean, you don’t have it?” the judge questioned.

  “I lost it.” He lied. “The clasp broke over the canyon and it fell.”

  The judge smiled. “I understand. In that case , I’ll defer to Nicodemus, Gatemaker Grand Supreme.” She looked over at the ancient man. “Am I correct in assuming that you can discontinue the timekeeper’s registration with the threshold system?”

  She’d known he was lying. She was showing him compassion.

  Nicodemus nodded slowly, and with what seemed a tremendous effort, he answered, “Every timekeeper has a unique signature that must be meshed with the thresholds’ energy. We can simply erase that signature from the gateway memory and the piece will be rendered useless at all registered thresholds.”

  All registered thresholds, he’d said. If no one knew about his secret threshold, did that mean it was unregistered? Or was his timepiece useless at any threshold that existed?

  “Very well,” the judge resigned, “that is what we will do. Rhydian you are free to-”

  “Madam Council Leader,” Redwing interrupted, rising from his seat. “With respect for the laws that you have upheld through your finest years on the bench, I would ask if it were not more appropriate to confiscate the devise, as the law requires.”

  Rhydian suddenly understood how Redwing had won his place in the Governors Council, as well as the Judges Quorum. He was a very eloquent speaker, adept at playing on the vanities and egos of those he addressed. He was a master manipulator.

  The council leader, however, saw right through the act. “Governor, the purpose of the law is to prevent him from crossing, is it not?”

  “It is, Madam, however I think if you examine section five of—”

  “Then, we have accomplished your goal, Mr. Redwing. And we’ll leave it at that.”

  Redwing was visibly perturbed, but he quickly gained control of his emotions and continued. “Madam Council Member, if I may, I’d like to put it to a vote by the council, whom I’m sure will uphold a standard of uniformity and fairness, and will judge young Rhydian without regard for his lineage.” A few of the judges nodded in agreement.

  “As you, wish, Governor,” she granted. “All in favor of seizing the litigant’s now defective timekeeper, please indicate.”

  A few of the council members raised a hand, but in large, most remained still.

  “The motion is defeated,” the judge proclaimed. “Rhydian, you may go.”

  Redwing was brimming with anger, his face red with fury. Nicodemus, on the other hand, seemed fondly amused, looking down on Rhydian with a faint smile.

  A soldier came and returned Rhydian’s sword and his ilïmbalm. He belted it on and turned to General Corvus.

  “Thank you,” he said. “You didn’t have to cover for me.”

  Corvus put a friendly hand on his shoulder. “Your father would never have forgiven me if I let you get put away. Besides,” he lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned in, “wherever you got that ilïmbalm, I’m sure you got it through perfectly legitimate means.” He gave him a slightly judgmental look.

  Rhydian nodded and repeated, “Thank you, sir.”

  “And if some of that were to find its way onto my desk, I wouldn’t complain about it,” he hinted, his mood lighter now. “By the way, just between you and me, if you’d like me to hold onto your timekeeper for you, I’d be happy to safeguard it for you.”

  “Thanks,” he said.

  Rhydian’s mother came over and gathered him into her arms and wings. She was a small woman, but she held him tight.

  After a moment, he pulled away and whispered. “Mother, how many people did you tell?”

  “I just bragged about you to a few friends at the market. I didn’t know it was supposed to be a secret.”

  “It’s not a secret,” he said, “but next time, just cut it with some lower quality balm and spread it around a bit. It’ll only lose a little of its value.”

  She shook her head vehemently, “No, Rhydian. I don’t want you bringing any more of that stuff home. It’s brought us nothing but trouble.”

  “Mother,” he argued, “it’s given us so many things we could never afford after Father went away.”

  “I don’t care about things, Rhyd. This has got to stop. Do you understand me?”

  He nodded and hung his head. “I was just trying to give you a good life; the life you deserve.”

  She smiled at her son and pulled his head down to kiss him on the forehead. “You are my life. Come on. Let’s go home.”

  Rhydian was about to leave with her when he noticed Redwing glaring at him from across the courtyard, his wings trembling with fury. He had some questions of his own he wanted answered.

  “I’ll catch up with you in a bit,” he told his mother, and he flapped up above the yard, catching a breeze and lightly sailing over to where Redwing was darting into a hallway leading into the mountainside. He gracefully landed a short distance behind him and followed him in stealthily.

&nb
sp; Redwing ducked into a side room and closed the door abruptly. Rhydian came to the door and pressed his ear to the wooden surface. Inside he discerned two voices. One was clearly Redwing’s, and the other he knew he recognized from somewhere, though he couldn’t figure out where.

  “I just need a few more days, Governor,” the voice said. “I can still get it.”

  “You had better,” the governor said, filled with malice, “or you know what will happen to her.”

  “If you harm one hair on her head, I will tell the old man, make no mistake!”

  “Get me the timepiece and she’ll be fine. It’s as simple as that. I need all three or the plan is no good! Get it DONE!”

  “You speak like you’ve been so successful with your part. Tell me, have you managed to get the timekeeper from this Rhydian guy?”

  “It’s only a matter of time. We’ve tossed the forge where he works already, and I’ve got people searching his house as we speak. We’ll find it.”

  Rhydian’s heart raced with terror. His mother was on her way to the house!

  “Not if they’re anything like the thugs you sent after him in the first place,” he mocked.

  “Just focus on your job and let me do mine!”

  He was about to take off to warn his mother when he heard footsteps approaching the door. Panicked, he jumped into the air and fluttered into the rafters, pressing as much of himself as he could against the wall.

  The door swung open, slamming into the stonework behind it, and out stormed Redwing. He must have heard Rhydian in his haste to escape discovery, because he stopped and looked around. Rhydian was sure he’d be spotted, holding his breath so as not to make a sound. He resisted the urge to shift his wings and tail feathers to steady his balance. At last, Redwing continued down the corridor and disappeared around the corner.

  Rhydian’s heart pounded. He had to keep his mother away from the house, but by now, she already had a substantial head start. He dropped from the rafters and soared out of the hall, his toes skimming the floor. People shouted as he blew by over the courtyard and angled up sharply, his back to the cliff face. He had never flapped so hard in his entire life.