With Footfalls of Shadow

by Donogan Sawyer

Rhoie had tried to keep his bearings by keeping track of the sun. This would have been difficult enough moving in a straight line through the thick brush, but after following the bends and crooks of the tree branches, Rhoie had no idea of how he might retrace his steps if it were to become necessary.

  They ate and rested far better under Maurious’s guidance than they had without him. Maurious understood how to survive in the swamp. He knew where to find food enough for the whole group. He taught them how to build fires on the thick branches of the trees without damaging them and, because of this, they were finally able to travel in dry clothes. Maurious lead them to branches wide enough to sleep on, and although they tied themselves securely, Rhoie had great difficulty with the vertigo that came with lying on the high branches. As his arm slid off his chest after he nodded off, or his head bobbed to one side, it would often trigger an overwhelming feeling of falling, waking him with a start.

  The fear of falling was with him all the time as they travelled. Rhoie wondered how the others truly felt about traversing these high branches, and if their fear approached the level of his own. The first day was the most difficult. The branches were almost thick enough for two people to walk side by side, but the higher they walked, the more Rhoie found himself focusing on the curvature of the branch, and how easy it would be to slip off the side. This sensation of slipping sometimes took on a physical presence. He could feel in his feet something between a tickle and an itch, as he slid them across the smooth bark. The sensation was sometimes so sharp, he had to fight back the urge to twitch or shake the tickle out of his feet.

  The worst aspect of travelling through the trees was the jumping. It was remarkable how Maurious led them from tree to tree and from branch to branch. Usually this required little more balance than it would take to climb a ladder or step over a puddle in the road. But on the ground, stepping into a puddle meant getting one’s feet wet; up here, missing a step meant a dangerous, perhaps deadly, fall. Rhoie managed these lunges without too much difficulty, forcing himself to focus on the next branch rather than on the great depths beneath them. But sometimes more than a lunge was required. Sometimes it was necessary to jump. In these instances, Maurious would normally jump first, but after a while Blade, and sometimes Darryck, would lead the way.

  Rhoie was not the only one who needed encouragement to make his first jump, but he was certain he needed the most. He had stood on the branch, rocking lightly back and forth on his feet, the other Talons shouting support. He counted down four, three, two, and then he changed his mind at one. He did this several times; the encouragement, and now teasing, becoming more persistent with each baulk. When he had made that first jump, he felt as if he was in the air for a very long time, time enough to fear that he had jumped too far, time enough to fear that he had not jumped far enough. When he landed, he did so with a thud, and was grateful that the arms of his brethren had been there to help him keep his balance.

  These jumps became more frequent, three or four times per hour, and every time Rhoie felt he was getting used to them, they seemed to become more perilous. As they climbed higher, the branches became thinner, and would bow under his weight when he jumped and when he landed, making it even more difficult to keep his balance. He was only able to overcome his fear of the jumps when he realised that he no longer feared the consequences of failure. He decided that if he fell, he would likely die, and that would not be so bad. It had been an epiphany to him while stuck in the sucking pit, that death might not be such a terrible consequence, and he called on that realisation to bolster his courage. He wondered if that was how all the Talons appeared so brave. Perhaps they all had decided at some point that death was not the worst end. The idea invigorated him, and after a time, he was leaping from branch to branch nimbly, almost aggressively.

  He learned, however, that his epiphany had flaws. One time, feeling confident, he decided he would be the first to take a jump. Before he leapt, he had told himself, as he did before every jump, that he was not afraid to die. He actually screamed ‘Ha’ as he jumped, laughing in the face of Atai, the Goddess of Death. As he completed his jump, he began slipping off the branch he had landed upon, his body moving and twisting with the energy of pure panic. He dug into the bark with his fingernails as he slowly slid down over the branch. His panicked scrambling was rewarded, however, and eventually he was able to reach a thinner branch and pull himself to safety. Relief rushed through his body. The other Talons were stone quiet, watching to see if he would make it, then they all started laughing heartily. He smiled along with them, and was about to make a joke, when he heard a distinct ‘Ha’ come from deep inside the swamp. The other Talons did not notice this amidst their own laughter, but Rhoie saw Maurious looking directly towards where the laugh had come from. Maurious had then looked very seriously at Rhoie. Somehow, Rhoie felt certain that both Atai and Maurious had just rebuked him. Perhaps he had needed a reminder that death was still to be feared.

  Eventually, Rhoie was able to find a healthy balance of fear and courage as he, and the rest of the group, adjusted to the treacherous travel.

  Finally on the fifth day of their trek with Maurious, they reached his home. They were practically inside the assembly area before Rhoie realised they had reached it. Rhoie was ushered to sit down upon one of the heavy branches. Had this room been on the ground, Rhoie would have thought it an unusual and exotic construction. It was comfortable, functional and hauntingly beautiful, but it was also hundreds of feet in the air. Rhoie looked under his seat and could see the foliage of the swamp beneath him. Maurious’s lair was in the densest part of the swamp, and not much light passed through to the water below, even in broad daylight. Now that dusk was settling in, the darkness seemed to be slowly creeping towards him, swallowing up the swamp.

  Rhoie sat up and looked around at the assembly again. There was room for all of the men. They sat comfortably, two or three to a branch, facing slightly different angles, all at slightly different heights. They formed an imperfect semicircle, but all had a clear view of Maurious, who was busy making a fire on a thickly thatched floor.

  “I heard Maurious spent four hundred years building this place,” Dilano said, as he sat down next to Rhoie.

  It took Maurious only a moment to stir up a rousing flame. Rhoie was grateful for the warmth and the light.

  Maurious reached for a large metal cage filled with fish and vegetables, lying next to the fire. The cage was on legs. Rhoie thought it an odd contraption, until he saw how it fitted over the fire, cooking the contents at just the right distance over the flames. The smell of the smoke and the roasting fish offered a rush of comfort after their gruelling weeks of travel. Blade passed around containers of cold, fresh water as Maurious stood before the fire to address them.

  “Welcome, Talons of Freedom. You have all performed very bravely over the last months. However, the fates have not been with us,” Maurious began. “It has been almost five years since you tried to rob me.”

  The Talons laughed at the memory.

  “I wish he’d quit mentioning that,” said Dilano, still smiling, but looking embarrassed.

  “Much has happened since then. Arconus has risen from clan leader to dictator. There are few left who oppose him. He has gone far in consolidating his power and is now more dangerous than ever. You have all grown as well, from common criminals into fine soldiers. You have carried messages for General Santaque and pledged your support to fight for him, though you were robbed of the chance. You have used your formidable skills to acquire funds and information for him. And you have seen him in death.”

  “May he live forever,” incanted one of the Talons.

  “May he live forever,” repeated Maurious, “but should he live forever in the next world, let us take a moment to remember him as he was in ours.”

  The group sat in silence, remembering the dead. Rhoie had not known General Santaque, but had thought well of him. He wondered if there was another man, another leader, who might replace him.


  Maurious had a few of the Talons dish the food and start distributing it as he continued. “Five years ago you tried to separate me from my possessions on the road to Snake’s Mouth. Now you come to me seeking guidance, as many have done before you. I have been in this world a very long time, and I have been a part of far too many of men’s wars. I am a doctor. My interests lie in matters of healing, not in matters of rule. The time has come, however, for me to turn my attention to healing Jeandania. I also must tell you something that some of you only suspected – I am a Walvaai.”

  Maurious paced while he let his audience assimilate this information. For Rhoie’s part, he found this news exciting. The Walvaai were real, and one of them was helping the Talons of Freedom!

  After a few long moments, Maurious continued, “In my view, it seems now that Jeandania is heading towards a critical nexus, where her future and the futures of all who dwell in or near her, are at stake. A tyrant sits on the throne, a very cunning man with no concern for morality. Worse still, there are forces behind him that he is not even aware of, who are working to gain power through him. We had placed our hopes of the future in General Santaque. He was a good man, and a good leader, but the fates have taken him away from us. We have lost our best hope to overthrow the King, but not all is lost.

  “Up to now, you have been fine soldiers and have served the general well. Now it is time to decide how far you are willing to go. You are all free to choose your own path. This path, indeed, is uncertain and dangerous. Several of your brethren have already died. It is likely that more of you will follow. However, it is only with free will, and with unremitting determination, that this kind of tyranny can eventually be defeated.”

  Maurious sat down quietly, and Blade took the stage. He said nothing for some time. He merely paced the thatched floor, collecting his thoughts, and perhaps allowing the others to collect theirs.

  Rhoie looked down to realise that, hungry as he was, he had not taken more than two bites of his meal. He scooped up another handful while thinking over what he had just heard. He was fascinated. He wanted to meet more beings unlike him. Maybe the Æhlman Sisterhood was real after all. He had already wondered about Lyra. The way she guided him to safety that night at Liam’s tavern seemed impossible. He felt certain there was something more to her. He had considered the Walvaai and the Æhlman Sisterhood to be myths; but now, to be sitting twenty feet from a Walvaai, opened up many new worlds for him. What else was there?

  He was not sure how the others felt, but at the moment, Maurious, Walvaai or not, was going to help them kill Arconus. He would avenge Brandi and Liam in whatever way he could. Let the others do what they liked, he was committed.

  Finally Blade began. “Maurious and I have spoken much over the last few days. We’ve had time to discuss the future, and to ponder it. Maurious told me what I had already suspected, that he is a Walvaai. I consider it an honour to have the aid and trust of such a man. I’ve also learned that my father, a Sha’grath, was trained by a Walvaai. If Maurious can help me to be half the man my father was, I will be grateful.”

  Blade paced as he continued. “Dilano, Darryck and I started out as three young orphans trying to survive on what we could steal. We grew tough and resourceful, and gradually accepted each of you into our group. We accepted you as Talons, as brothers. We were thugs and thieves, but we were brothers. Since the day we met Maurious, all of that changed. He educated us, refined our fighting skills, and most importantly, showed us a greater cause – freedom for Jeandania. Fighting for freedom is noble, but there are many ways to fight for freedom, other than by the way of the sword. You will remain brothers of mine for all your days, no matter what you decide tonight.

  “The Talons of Freedom are moving forward. Our last mission was to arrange a meeting between General Santaque and the Bok. Santaque had an army and allies in Jeandania. He wished to make an alliance with the Bok. It was an important mission, and it failed through no fault of ours. Now Santaque is dead. But Maurious has told me of another who may be worthy of the challenge to defeat Arconus. He has no army. He has no allies. He is in the capital right now, facing the King alone. Maurious thinks he might be the one we’ve been waiting for.”

  “Who?”

  “Who is it?”

  “Just tell us what to do.”

  Blade settled the group before continuing. “Please, listen a moment. You are all loyal to me, and I know you will follow my orders. But now I am not ordering. I am not asking. Following this man must be of your own volition.”

  Maurious interrupted, “That is the way of this man. He will only succeed if loyalty is freely given. At the moment, two walk with him. I cast my lot. That is three. What begins with three may end with the faith of the nation, should the fates deem it so, but that is far from certain.”

  Blade continued, “I make it four. I pledge my allegiance to Liam Foster.” He stood tall before them, as if he were a soldier at attention, a new soldier in the army of Liam Foster.

  Rhoie was stunned. He found himself standing, and voiced his question aloud, “Liam’s alive?”

  “Yes, Rhoie. Liam is alive,” answered Maurious with a soft smile, “and he has a blood claim to the throne. He may not know it yet himself, but King Tobias was his uncle.”

  Rhoie sat again. He had not yet begun to consider what Maurious and Blade were saying. He was just overjoyed that Liam was alive. But he was in the capital? He was about to challenge the King? They had better get moving. They had to help him.

  “Five!” Rhoie shouted, and stood at attention.

  Darryck stood before the group. “Rhoie, I’m glad that Liam is alive. He is a good man. I’d fight for him for that reason alone, but I will fight behind him, because my leader believes in him.”

  He put a fist to his heart. “Here, we all have our demons. We all have our sins, our pain, our rage. My parents were killed by the King’s soldiers. Martial’s sister was raped and killed by the soldiers of Tabak, Arconus’s predecessor.” Darryck pounded his hand on his chest. “What’s in here, stays in here. We all have our motivations. Where we once directed our hate, pain and rage to random travellers on the road, we now direct it towards the good of Jeandania.

  “We are all in search of a legacy beyond our wretched past. Once we painted our faces to hide our identity, to hide our past, and to strike fear into the hearts of those who would judge us; but now the marks on our bodies mean much more. Now our painted faces are the image of feared warriors, fighting for our country. Beneath these marks rest the troubled sons, brothers and friends of those lost to tyranny. These marks protect the memories of our loved ones, and represent our commitment to seeking justice on their behalf.”

  “Hear, hear!”

  Darryck looked directly at Blade. “We all came to you, Blade, because we needed a leader. I know nothing of Æhlman, or curses, or magic, but I know I believe in you. You give meaning to our struggle. You bring nobility to our suffering. If you believe Maurious can help us free Jeandania from the rule of Arconus, I am with you. Even if you believe the war is unwinnable, I will fight by your side, because you are my brother.”

  Blade looked thoughtfully to Darryck, and nodded at him in gratitude.

  “What say you all?” Darryck asked.

  To a man, the Talons of Freedom rose to signify their allegiance.

  Maurious put a hand on Blade’s shoulder, and said quietly, “Allegiance to a King begins with the allegiance of great leaders. This moment shines upon you.”

  Blade was visibly moved. Maurious let the moment last a bit longer, and then it was time to get back to work.

  “A week from today marks the first day of the King’s summer fair,” Maurious said. “Liam Foster is in the city now to confront the King. Arconus will almost surely order his execution. With luck, Foster will find a way to prolong his life long enough for us to reach him. We have made good time moving through the swamp, but we are another day from the southern edge. From there it is a week’s journey on horseback
to the capital. Time is short. You have about twelve hours to rest before we head off, make the most of it.”

  Blade and Darryck split the group in two, and each led a group to where they would sleep. Rhoie was directed to his sleeping quarters, a thatched construction between two thick branches. Rhoie climbed into his bed. The air was cool and crisp, but the bed was warm and comfortable. Rhoie took only a moment to wonder at its construction. The thatching was slightly springy. He had a woollen blanket and a feather pillow. At that moment he felt it was the most comfortable bed he had ever lain in.

  He found his thoughts turning to his parents, a topic he normally pushed from his mind. Perhaps his memory was stirred because of the way he felt here, among his friends, high in the trees. He had seen much danger in the past weeks, and finally he felt safe. The very feeling of safety, however, was a complicated sensation for Rhoie to cope with. It was the reason he had refused to sleep in Liam’s home. Brandi used to call it a fear of safe places. Of course it was not safety he feared, but the illusion of safety. The night his parents were killed in a violent tornado, they had told him that the house was the safest place in the world, no matter what. They were wrong. He had huddled with them that night. They lay with him underneath the table in the dining room. They had made it a game, building a little fort with the furniture in the house. They created a safe, cosy hideaway where nothing and no one could harm them. They spoke to him even as the storm approached, telling stories and singing songs. His parents tried to disguise the fear in their voices as the wind grew louder, but Rhoie could sense it. In time, he could not hear their voices over the storm. The noise reached the point where it drowned out the sound of his own screams. Rhoie thought there was never a noise so loud. Then the storm grew louder still.

  Then all became black. He woke up, shivering with cold the following morning. He was alone and confused, his head aching. The house had crumbled on top of them, and much of it was strewn throughout the forest. Only he had survived. When he found his parents, he tried to speak to them, to ask them if they were alright, but no sound came forth. His efforts to shake them, poke them, smack them into consciousness were as impotent as his attempt to rouse them with his screams. It was as if the storm had ripped his voice from his throat. He ran away into the forest with no direction in mind, trying to cry with his broken voice. He would never again believe that anywhere was a safe place.