by Devan Skyles
Visibly shaken, Rhydian jumped down from Brighteye’s back. His legs were shaking from the adrenalin coursing through his veins. As soon as his feet hit the ground, she coiled the muscles in her powerful hind legs and sprang fifteen feet straight up the cliff. Without stopping once, she nimbly darted back to the top, where she collected Auram and bounded back down, followed by her companions.
Rhydian was extremely impressed by the Grimalkin’s agility and physical prowess. The most extraordinary thing about it was that they made the actions appear so graceful and natural, making them that much more exotic and dangerous.
When Auram again stood beside him, Rhydian whispered, “Now what do we do?”
“Make a run for it?” Auram suggested.
Rhydian shook his head. “You’ve seen how these things can move. We’d never make it out of here alive.”
“Well, they didn’t tie our hands. Maybe we could get far enough away that we could undo these cords and fly.”
“I don’t think they’re going to give us the chance.”
“Probably not. So, what’s all this Eaglehide stuff about? Care to fill me in?”
Blackmane interrupted by pushing them forward through the Grimalkin camp, which was brimming with activity. As they made their way through the crowd, the buzz of conversation and liveliness died down. Many of the cat-like creatures stopped what they were doing to stare. Some bared their fangs and growled as they passed. A young cub gazed up at them in awe until an adult female pulled her away, hissing menacingly at them.
Looking around, they couldn’t help noticing that most of the creatures were female, and they all had coats that ranged from charcoal gray to pitch black. Some had subdued spots or stripes. Their eyes were consistently green, with the exception of Brighteye’s yellow.
The other thing that was inescapably clear was that these were a people that were ready for a fight. Very few of them were unarmed, and of those, most were children. Their weapons mostly seemed to follow the same basic design, usually curving forward with the edge on the inside. They tended to have little or no hand protection, and were generally short and blade-heavy, optimized for a powerful cut. Rhydian, seeing them from an expert’s perspective, correlated the shape of the blades with the ground-dwellers’ natural weapons: their hooked claws and teeth. By this logic, it only made sense to design them after the weapons nature had blessed them with.
Rhydian and Auram became increasingly tense the further into the hoard they walked. Every step was further from freedom and closer to their inevitable doom. Many of the Grimalkin seemed angered by their mere presence, and Rhydian was sure that, at any moment, the masses would simply converge on them. But no such attack came.
Finally, they stopped before a large cluster of tree roots tangled and intertwined up into a tree stump that, at one point, must have been a grand tree. Now, however, it was carved into a massive throne the size of a small house, the back of which was engraved with the most exquisite, detailed imagery of mighty warriors and long-past battles. Each rendering was separated with the most intricate knotwork Rhydian had ever seen. The entire piece was a grand display of decades of masterful craftsmanship. Everything he’d ever heard of the ground-dwellers was that of their fierce savagery, but nothing could have prepared him for the magnificent elegance and refinement displayed in this one work of art.
If the throne was something to behold, it was nothing to what they saw laying across it. Lounging luxuriously on a bed of cushions and animal skins was a Grimalkin male, but unlike any of the others, he was simply massive, at least twice the size of Blackmane. His illustrious mane extended all the way down his back, much of it in small braids and strung with brightly collared beads and feathers. He had an impressive array of scars all over his body, many of which appeared to be claw marks. But the thing that stood out the most about him was, while all his kin had dark fir, his was entirely stark white. A pale giant indeed.
Around the Chieftain Lord lay three Grimalkin females draped in fine, woven linens and adorned with beads and jewelry. He reached out and stroked the head of the nearest one, who closed her eyes and purred contentedly.
“What have you brought me, Champion Blackmane?” the Chieftain Lord asked in a deep, barrel chested voice. His tone, while regal and authoritative, seemed disinterested in the two Ilimíri before him.
Blackmane, who had previously commanded such respect, now cast his gaze downward submissively. “Great Warrior, we discovered these two near the breeding grounds on our way to rendezvous with the Rimclan Faction. This one,” he pushed Rhydian forward forcefully, “claims to be the offspring of Eaglehide himself, though we believe he may be lying.”
The white giant’s attention snapped to Rhydian, who stood there, refusing to look up from the ground. The great king stared through him with piercing, pale blue eyes void of pigment.
“You said Eaglehide?” he asked in shock.
“So he claims, Great Warrior,” Blackmane confirmed.
The king stood and, in one great bound, leaped from his throne to the ground with a massive thud as dust rose from the earth around him. Immediately, everyone bowed submissively before him.
“You, cloudwalker!” The Chieftain Lord commanded firmly. “Look at me.”
Rhydian, terrified, slowly looked up into the great beast’s eyes. He towered a full two feet over him, eight-hundred pounds of raw muscle, fangs, and razor-sharp claws.
“Unbind him,” he ordered.
Without question, Liris drew her hooked dagger and cut away the vines restricting Rhydian. He stretched his aching wings, shaking from malnourishment. Two Grimalkin archers took a cautious aim at him in case he chanced taking flight, but the Chieftain Lord waved them down.
Walking slowly around him, the giant carefully inspected his every feature, then came back to stand before him, making direct eye contact. To Rhydian’s utter shock, the great king’s stern expression had softened and there was a tear in his eye.
“You are Gideon’s son, aren’t you, boy?” he said gently.
“I am,” he replied uncomfortably.
A hushed dismay swept through the crowd as the creatures began to whisper excitedly one to another.
“Do you come in his spirit?” The Chieftain Lord asked.
Rhydian wasn’t sure how to answer this question. “I— I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean. Er, your majesty.”
“We Grimalkin believe that when a parent passes on in death, they transfer their spirit and their legacy to their worthy children. Have you come in your father’s spirit?”
Rhydian was still a bit perplexed, but he answered anyway. “Well, I try to live up to my father’s legacy, but I think I fall short of most people’s expectations.”
The king nodded his massive head. “You honor me with your candor, young one, and I believe that you do indeed honor your father’s spirit. I see his soul in your eyes.”
“Um, your majesty, I’m confused,” Rhydian said, still shaken by the entire experience. “Are we to be executed? The ground-dwellers who captured us said that we were coming here to be sentenced.”
The Grimalkin ruler rose to his full height and replied, loud enough for everyone to hear, “To kill you would be to shame my closest friend. You are the son of my fallen ally, the great warrior, Eaglehide. Tonight, we will rejoice in the return of his spirit through his progeny. You will be honored in his stead, young Eaglehide. Bring them food and water!”
Auram’s bonds were cut as well, much to his dismay. He looked about, nervously wondering if this was some kind of trick, and walked cautiously over to his friend.
“Um, any chance you want to tell me what’s going on?” he said.
“You know about as much as I do, I’m afraid,” Rhydian replied.
Within minutes, they were brought fish, dried jerky, and bowls of water. Some of the Grimalkin came and spoke to them, though most regarded them with a detached indifference. Others, they sensed, still harbored a deep hostility toward them bred from countl
ess generations of conflict.
As Rhydian ate, he felt a tug on his wing and looked down. Standing there was a young cub, only waist-high, staring up at him with big, almond shaped eyes.
“Hi there,” Rhydian said.
“Are you going to lead us to Rim’Ithra?”
“What?”
“My mother says you carry the spirit of Eaglehide, and that you’re here to lead us back to Rim’Ithra.”
“What’s Rim’Ithra?” he asked.
The child looked disappointed and slunk off into the crowd. A moment later, Brighteye greeted them.
“I am happy you are not spies,” she said, then held out a bottle of red liquid. “Our warriors often bring this home form the battlefield. I thought you might like some. It is sweet to the tongue, but beyond that, we have no use for it.”
Rhydian and Auram, relieved to see fresh ilïmbalm, thanked her and took turns guzzling it down. Within moments, they felt a hundred times better.
Rhydian, having eaten his fill, asked. “Is it acceptable to approach the Chieftain?”
“Yes, but you must be presented, and you must refer to him as Chieftain Lord,”
Brighteye escorted him to the white Grimalkin, who was again lounging on his throne.
“You may leave us, young huntress,” the king dismissed her. “What can I do for you, cloudwalker?”
“Well, Chieftain Lord—”
“You may call me by my name when we are alone, young friend. I am Belator.”
“Belator, my name is Rhydian. I just want to know, why is it my father is revered by your people when he fought against you for so long?”
“True, your father killed many of my kin in this long war, but so did I kill his. After so many generations of bloodshed, and no end in sight, he found a way to end the conflict; a way to unite us. And for that, he earned our admiration and our love. And he earned my eternal friendship.”
“I don’t understand,” Rhydian replied. “If he found a peaceful resolution, then why are we still at war?”
“I suspect your father’s ideas were not popular among the wingfolk, so it does not surprise me that your history recounts his story differently. Perhaps it is better if we show you rather than tell you. We have a ritual called the Grim’Nariit. It is a traditional retelling of our history.” He smiled. “I do love a show. Would you like to see it?”
“I would,” he replied, genuinely curious.
Without another word, Belator stood in his throne and roared so loud that the ground shook beneath Rhydian’s feet, causing him to jump out of his skin, but not nearly so much as when the entire camp stopped what they were doing and roared back in unison.
The sound of the tumultuous uproar was so immense, Rhydian and Auram had no doubt it could be heard from the top of the Monolith City, miles away. All attention was now directed at the king. Even the birds and forest creatures fell silent.
“Tonight we perform the Grim’Nariit for our guests!” Belator announced, to which a delighted cheer went up from the crowd.
For the rest of the day, Grimalkin could be seen excitedly running here or there, preparing for what seemed to be a long-awaited celebration. The males busied themselves going out into the forest and bringing back narrow logs, which they lashed together and formed a sort of stage near the water before the Chieftain Lord’s throne. The females, too, went out throughout the day, bringing back the corpses of various animals Rhydian had never seen for an apparent feast. The young ones were the most excited, bringing glass bottles of every size and shape and waiting patiently as elderly females filled them with what appeared to be water from a hollow stump.
Rhydian approached the stump as the first few bottles were filled. An ancient female with graying fur reeled up a bucket on a rope from the stump, which was apparently as deep as a well. When the bucket came to the top, the clear fluid sloshed out slightly, exciting the children immensely. She carefully filled the bottles of the eager cubs, who quickly capped them. They then ran about, making merry and shaking the bottles as they went. As the clear fluid sloshed around in the bottles, it shimmered and glowed bright, changing colors with every shake. Whenever the fluid settled, it dimmed and again became clear.
“How does that work?” Auram asked, having been watching over Rhydian’s shoulder.
The old female replied, “It is the sap of the Iim'rän’sul tree. Its roots run deep into the earth, soaking up the mineral-rich water there. The minerals combine with the sap, causing it to glow. You should see the flowers that bloom on its branches. Every time the wind blows, they change color. When the tree dies, it becomes hollow, so we cut it down and take the sap from the roots.”
“May I have a bottle?” asked Rhydian.
“You are too old for childish things,” The old female huffed, making him feel slightly foolish.
When the sun set beyond the canyon walls and the forest grew dark, the vibrant glow from the energetic cubs’ toys lit up the forest in every color imaginable, reflecting off the water in a picturesque scene of joy and celebration. For the first time, Rhydian and Auram felt completely comfortable around the ground-dwellers. While they were clearly intimidating warriors, they suddenly didn’t seem like the ruthless barbarians they had imagined from the stories. What they saw here was a rich, thriving civilization made of families with a vibrant culture and history. Rhydian began to wonder why they had been at war with these people for so many years.
“Okay, this is fun,” Auram admitted.
Rhydian nodded in agreement.
When the sun had set completely, people began to feast on wild game and music went up through the crowd. Belator, high on his throne with his female companions, smiled and nodded his head to the music, singing along from time to time. The crowd seemed to have doubled in size by now. Word of the celebration had apparently spread, as more and more Grimalkin came out of the woodwork as the night went on.
Finally, Belator gave another loud roar, which was again echoed by the multitude. Rhydian knew to cover his ears this time, but Auram was enjoying himself so much that he roared along with them.
Silence fell over the crowd as the Chieftain Lord announced, “Let the Grim’Nariit begin!”
A roar of tumultuous approval came from the Grimalkin, children shaking their brightly lit bottles excitedly. When the commotion died down and the colorful lights ceased, the forest went almost dead silent. The two friends began to wonder if the Grim’Nariit “beginning” meant that the party was over, but soon there came a single beat of drums and several Grimalkin on stage shook their own light bottles exactly in sync with the beat, illuminating the stage for just a moment. The light quickly faded, until another beat sounded and the stage lit up again. This continued every few seconds while an old female on stage began to recite narrative and the performers acted out the story.
“Before Grimalkin walked the earth and hunted on the ground
Before on clouds and mighty winds the wingfolk did abound
The Father Earth and Mother Sky did live in harmony
But often cried because they never could together be
So Earth created children, many creatures great and small
Upon his back they ventured, every thing that walked and crawled
Among his many offspring were the Grimfolk, hunters proud
And to their Father Earth did sing their praises bold and loud
Behold, the Sky was jealous and desired children too
And being overzealous, she created not a few
Among her many millions who did fly upon her breast
The wingfolk were the children she did love above the rest
The Earth and Sky were happy to behold their many kin
And as their children mingled, many friendships did begin
But mighty hunters were they all and as their numbers grew
The prey they shared began to fall until there were but few
Conflict started to arise between the earth and skies
And the Grimfolk and
the winged became enemies despised
Many years they lived in strife until one fateful night
When Father Earth and Mother Sky stepped in to stop the fight
No longer could they watch their children suffering in vain
So they split the world in half and then created separate planes
On one side was Rim’Ithra where the Grimfolk lived apart
From the land of Ilimíra to where the winged did depart
From then on there was peace among the children of the earth
And the wingfolk also prospered in great harmony and mirth
But the Father wasn’t pleased with just the Grimfolk to inherit
All the lands that lay between the seas that needed to be cherished
So Earth created man, a species different from the rest
Upon two legs they ran across the ground, their skills to test
But to the Father’s much dismay the Grimfolk they did hunt
And mankind did the Grimfolk slay upon the battlefront
The Father felt a fool that he could so profoundly err
He pleaded for his children that their lives would all be spared
The Mother heard his anguish and did answer to his cries
That no more would they languish underneath her starry skies
Let us open wide the boundary that divides up both our lands
So across it all our children will be free to go expand
And with the doubled space no more conflict will there be
So she created gateways through which all could pass freely
Grimalkin, wingfolk, and mankind now spread throughout both lands
And peace again they all did find pursuing separate plans