Lorius Midel (Genesis of Miletus)

 

$144

Unlock the sealed chamber. Hear the voice that should never have spoken.

In a castle older than memory, a restless Zanite prince hears a chant no one else can. Behind chained doors and tentacled guardians lies an orb that holds the most dangerous secret in the universe: the true story of Lorius Midel—once a mortal boy in 1700s Soudan, now a legend of fire, mist, and betrayal.

From sun-scorched deserts and slave ships to glittering arenas where boys duel to the death atop winged monsters, Lorius rose from Ordinary to Zanite of the First Order. He mastered powers that could level cities… and made enemies who feared those same powers enough to cage him for centuries.

Now the cage is cracking.

One curious prince.

One forbidden voice.

One truth that could shatter worlds.

Lorius Midel is the first volume of a sweeping fantasy epic packed with breakneck action, ancient mysteries, and the intoxicating cost of immortality. Perfect for fans of high-stakes world-building, anti-heroes who refuse to stay sealed, and stories that ask: What if the ultimate power is also the ultimate threat?

The chant has begun.

Will you listen?

Chapter 1

Soudan- circa 1700- AD

I am light complexioned with dark curly hair, full lips and very brown eyes and this made me stand out as people around were more prone to be of a darker skin tone. 

At seven, my face was round and I was shorter than my age mates were. I always was a daydreamer; in my mind, I had travelled round the world. I was anything I desired; from being mega-rich like the merchants that visited our province, to becoming famous like my father. Whatever I desired, my wonderful mind constructed. 

 Sometimes, I travelled so far my mother would yell out.

“Get up from that couch Miletus and go and find something useful to do.”

I would reply, “I have nothing to do mother, I am done with all my errands.”

“Then go get your scripts or something and quit lying there staring at the roof like you lack ambition.”

Being of an innately stubborn temperament, I sometimes contemplated ignoring her but one look at those eyes and such thoughts sneak the same way they came.

“Yes mother,” I would say.

I always wondered why she would not let me be. One day when I asked her why she always roused me even in my ‘alone time’; she said

“You can always achieve things in your imagination but it is in reality you get your accolades.”

I felt she was just being herself, my mother. I rolled my eyes in a bored manner; a habit I was especially fond of when I felt someone was acting too uptight for my taste.

My family was a large one; four brothers and two sisters; my sisters being the youngest. My father was a very famous doctor, known by rulers and powers all around from across the Niger even up to Egypt. He was obsessed with astrology, which was probably how he came up with my name, as I am sure it was one of the strangest names in the province- while my mother was inclined to craftwork and was quite successful. Overall, I was from a superior family and expected to do well.

 My city Kalahash, situated on the southern end of the empire, a city quite vast and close to the Niger, peppered with hills, and sustained grey looking forests. The brown soil was fertile and the people obtained their daily bread through farming, fishing, mining, with a few choice professions like woodcarving, medicine, astrology, hunting, the art of painting…. 

It was around that time when the Moors faced deposition from power so the province like most of the empire, contained a diverse clutter of peoples as the Tuaregs, the Fulanis and some other groups still clustered together under a dying umbrella. Some were Islamic and some were Animists. 

Apart from all the other mosques, a huge mosque stood at the centre of the province close to the market square and we all could hear the voice of the muezzin at dawn, calling faithfuls to observe their morning prayers. 

I cannot exactly say what religion my family believed in because they were not exactly religiously inclined; although, my father originated from an Islamic background; he had once claimed that he was friends with the true God, but then my father said many strange things. 

The fashion also, was diverse, as there were those that dressed in flowing white robes with a small cap or turban. The women that would cover themselves from head to toe, then those that wore no tops but tied wrappers around their waists and marked their bodies with artful symbols representing their tribes, then there was the group I liked; these wore black robes with fitting trousers and black turbans. They carried long swords and I remember they belonged to the Tuareg group. 

And of course, the priests as we were a very superstitious people too and believed that gods and sprits resided in the rivers and special hills which were responsible for fertility, protection from invaders amongst other things. I, personally, was not superstitious by nature and did secretly scorn the priests and their so-called gods.

 The market square was vast and ever busy, with merchants who had travelled across the Sahara coming to display their wares. There was the slave section where traders chained slaves together, neck-to-neck for prospective buyers to examine. The execution square shared the same neighbourhood and crowds had gathered several times to watch many heads fall off at the executioner’s blade. 

Everyone could speak Arabic, as it was the main language although there were other popular languages like Bambara and Fulfulde. My family could speak the Arabic and Fulani (Fulfulde) languages fluently and I was part Moorish (my father) and part Peul.  

Now the art of woodcarving had always fascinated me so on the day of the third new moon, when my father asked me to accompany him to Namibie’s place to pick up some wooden stools he had purchased earlier, I eagerly agreed. 

Namibie was a renowned wood carver and had carved the drums used at the ram festival, which the city held every ten moons. I held the drums in higher esteem than the festival itself. When activities of the festival were going on, I was prone to wander off to some quiet place where I could indulge in my daydreams. 

One time, I wandered so deep into the forest and lost track of time. I even fell asleep on a tree. Meanwhile, my whole family was had worked themselves into a state of anxiety; as it was almost midnight and I was nowhere to be found. 

How baffled I was when I arrived the next morning to find my mother sporting a full-blown rage and my father would not even look at me. I tried to relay the fact to them that I never really was in any danger but they would hear nothing of it. 

Now back to the subject. Forgive me, if I tend to move too far away from the topic at hand. You see, it is a long story and as I talk, I tend to remember events and feelings, which the passing time has buried. But I would try to give you every portion of the story…it is important that you see my perspective of things.”

Although the prince had never visited earth, he could yet understand the concepts the voice tried to portray; his Zanite heritage allowed him glean the mind to uncover the obscure.

“Yea so I followed my father to the wood carver’s workshop,” the voice continued. “It was to me like walking into one of the best fantasies ever. I must have had a funny look because my father appraised me with a faint smile. Namibie spotted us from afar and was very happy to see us, more like honoured actually; it was not every day a personality like my father visited his shop. 

I remember him as a man who some unknown thing perpetually puzzled, as he always did squeeze his face in a rather funny way. 

He personally ushered us in and gave us a glistening ornately carved bench to sit on. The craft of the bench fascinated me and I went on to study rather too painstakingly the shape of the legs of the bench, the intricate designs on the sides….then I noticed that the carver and my father, both watched me.

“Father takes you out with him and you pull this off…very shrewd Miletus” I inwardly scolded myself. They both turned away, however, and continued their conversation. I sat still and tried to concentrate on what they were saying…no point. My eyes had caught on a beautifully carved lion. The wood carver had caught the sublimely snob expression that only a lion could portray.

 I was really impressed as I walked up to it to study it a bit more closely, perhaps to see whether the carver had caught details only someone like me would bother to look for- well the lion seemed to have passed my test. I then announced that I would like to purchase the lion. 

As I expected, Namibie was very delighted and told me I could have it for no cost at all. This was one of the main reasons I enjoyed going out with my father-you see, because my father was popular, people tended to fawn around him and as a devout opportunist, I made sure I enjoyed the benefits of their near obsequious behaviour to the fullest.

We had spent a considerable amount of time there as the sun was beginning to rise directly overhead showing that it was nearly noon. 

My father rose to his full height of about six foot three inches. I had always found this height intimidating and admired the beard he sported. It gave him a sort of aristocratic look, although, I did not know it at the time. I just knew that I liked the beard. Unlike me, he was not light complexioned but had a rather bronze coloured skin; my complexion I inherited from my mother.  

He said a few more things to Namibie but I was too enthralled with my lion to pay any attention. I remember the wood carver straightening up as if he was trying to look taller; the notion amused me and increased my admiration of my father. 

The carver had ordered his apprentice to bring some donkeys to take the stools to our home. My father and I, then walked away, this time to a weapon’s store to purchase a bow for my brother Traore, who had been nagging throughout the week that he wanted a cross bow.

Traore felt that he had outgrown catapults and mere bows and wanted the real thing. If one heard him ranting, one would not realize that this boy had only witnessed thirteen moons pass five times- this was how we counted our ages. At that time I had seen thirteen moons pass seven times so I was approximately seven years of age. 

Well we got to the weapons store and there was not so much fawning here, as the hunters were the ones who sold weapons and considered themselves equal in rank to physicians. 

Nevertheless, my father was welcomed warmly as he was popular and was a friend of Alini the shopkeeper. Alini was a renowned hunter and was one of the best weapon makers in the province; he also possessed immense wealth, as he was a merchant. 

He was a tall man with a strong bony face. His most striking feature was his hair, which he had braided into dreadlocks that, coupled with his bony face, made him look dangerous- overall he was a good-looking man. 

He smiled at us and asked what brought us to his humble store in a teasing fashion. My father smiled and said he wanted a crossbow.

“Well you have come to the right place.” Alini had said in a somewhat dramatic fashion “as everything sold here is of superior quality.”

“Take a look at this one,” he said pointing to a new crossbow hanging on a wooden rack. I was not a good judge of weapons but it was obvious that this was a superior bow judging by the material of the strings. It was also attractive too. I was beginning to regret not asking for a bow myself. Alini turned to me and said

“Physician’s heir, please accept this gift from Me.” in the same teasing manner he used to address my father. It was a beautiful pocketknife although the blade was longer than a foot long. The handle was brown in colour and had the figure of an angel embellished on it. 

I remember smiling at the irony of having a holy being engraved on something so obviously lethal. I appreciated the gift and thanked him in the same teasing manner he had adopted when he gave me the knife. He smiled and turned to my father.

“What an interesting young one you have here.”

The purchases of the day finally ended and we came home at mid noon to find Traore, my angelic looking little brother, sitting on the veranda of the main building, eagerly anticipating his crossbow. 

Believe me when I say that my description of him is rather accurate. Even though we had a strong resemblance, it was by a stroke of luck that he was not an albino, for his curly hair was very light brown and when my face was yet round, his; was slim and long; but altogether, his bright skin tone and golden hair made a rather appealing combination. 

Now in those days, heaven would have to have come crashing before I gave my brother such a description and perhaps I only remember him so fondly because it is a long time ago. 

As soon as he sighted us, he sprang up from the bench and dashed towards us. I let my father go through the ordeal and went in to meet my mother. 

She was outside, at the back of the building, where the kitchen was, and the then last born Yo`u tormented her in all his infantile fury. She saw me come in and beamed a wonderful smile at me, but I was no fool and knew she was only trying to charm me into inheriting the little bundle of headaches. 

The little imp had refused to be carried by any of my mother’s handmaidens. Ultimately, I decided to oblige her and after rolling my eyes in a bored manner, picked up Yo`u who did immediately burst out into loud shrieks and wails. I shoved some pieces of nuts in his mouth and he had to shut up for a while. After playing with him for some time, a very difficult task, as his idea of fun was quite different from mine, I left for my room. 

The room like every other room in my father’s house was big. It was also lower than the corridors of the house so that one would have to step down when entering it. Most of the houses in the province were built this way. It did not help cleaning in the morning though, as I always had a rather difficult time getting dirt out into the corridor (I rarely allowed the slaves into my room). 

I went straight to bed, which was made of feathers and hay well wrapped in a clean woven bed sheet. The head of the bed was elevated with cabinets at the base close to the mattress. The cabinets had doors, which all responded to one key. It was in these cabinets I kept all the important stuff I did not want Traore to get his hands on, as I was aware of the fact that he sometimes visited my room during my absence. 

I sat on my bed and admired my knife; then I went to the corner of the room and with the aid of a metal thong, heated a spiral shaped metal and pressed it on the handle of my knife. The knife was marked- it was now mine.

Traore jumped into my room; of course to gloat and show off his latest piece of weaponry as if I was not there when it was purchased. I sat calmly looking at him and after a few moments decided to tease him.

“Traore surely you are aware of the fact that you do not know how to use a crossbow.”

He looked at me, confused; you see, Traore was a prodigy and excelled at anything he gave his heart to. He rarely missed a target within a thousand yards! A record not many adults could boast of and here I was telling him he could not use a crossbow. 

He resumed his gloating obviously forgiving me for my slip. Well I was not interested in watching him prance about. I wanted some time alone so I drove him out of my room. Of course, this was not an easy task and it involved fierce scuffles peppered with enough insults. 

I did not fail to notice his rapid maturation; I also did not fail to feel threatened by it.

What was life turning into, I had inwardly wondered. The day I failed to defeat, Traore is the day I leave this house and in fact the province, and with such thoughts, I put my back into the struggle and eventually managed to break his balance and floor him. Once his back hit the floor, he did surrender and left the room with a grin in his eyes. It was obvious he had noticed the amount of effort I had put into this fight and of course he was pleased with himself; since in his reasoning, this meant that he would soon be equal to me in strength or even become stronger.

I went to bed with a heavy heart and for the next few days I was in the doldrums and just kept on brooding. I started to notice that my brother fared better than I; at, well, virtually everything. 

He was even growing rapidly and people including my parents saw him as the stronger one or as they delicately put it:

“Traore is the more volatile of the two, Miletus is the delicate type.”

Hell, why could they not just come out and say it, ‘Miletus is introverted and soft hearted while Traore has a warrior’s personality’. 

My mother once came to ask me why I always seemed to brood, ‘these days’’; and this question had only succeeded in adding fuel to my fire.

“Mother,” I answered, “we both know that I am introverted and enjoy spending my time alone…so what makes you ask me this question when my behaviour is not odd?” 

She sighed “yes I know you like to dream, but you usually look happy when doing so,” she said “these days you look moody as though something is weighing down on your mind,” she waited a bit and then asked.

“So what is the matter Miletus?”

“Nothing is wrong mother,” I answered.

“Oh so I’m a liar now, huh?” she had asked; her voice actually rising as she adjusted her headscarf. You see my mother had a volatile temper. I decided to just tell her and save myself the irksomeness. 

Now the problem was, I did not know where to start- saying it aloud just made it seem stupid so I tried to make light of it.

“Mother, forget about it; it is but one of these moods…it is nothing important.”

“It has caused you to brood son; you’ve already given it enough importance. Now by the heavens, spit it out!”

“Since you persist on this mother,” I said, wishing she would just let me be. 

“The thing is…I feel weak” 

“You feel weak?”

“Yes mother, I feel very weak and umm…not good enough. Everyone else is better than I am at everything and I can’t find something that I’m good at” I spat out and sighed shyly; her grey eyes were penetrating me and I could feel some steam coming out of my ears. Her long silence did not help either, as I could feel my mortification gradually increase. Perhaps I should not have said so much.

Then she spoke “I cannot believe this nonsense I’m hearing.” I did not lift up my head. She placed a hand on my back.

“You are a very shrewd young man; you easily grasp ideas and understand things when you are taught. You have a good memory; in fact you rarely forget anything,” she said, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“It is Traore is it not? You feel inadequate just because he is good at the bow, huh?” she asked.

“Not just the bow, mother…everything…he is good at everything.” she looked at me and smiled.

“Yea Traore is a prodigy and seems to be excellent at everything. But nothing is constant you know, besides people are fickle minded. You may do something in the future that will make you popular and adored and then some other person may find himself in this same mood you find yourself right now, complaining and saying ‘Miletus is so lucky, he has everything going for him ah! His life is so rosy, I envy him’ he would have no idea of the fact that you once spent days brooding and pitying yourself.”

So what she said made some sense to me and then she continued.

“You do not even realize it Miletus, but Traore looks up to you and he has his own fears and doubts about himself, simply because no one is perfect. 

You should look for what you are good at, mind you, I am sure there is a lot of stuff suitable for you, and you should work hard at it, so as to gain mastery of it. I do not ever want to see you go through an episode of self-pity again because the best person you can be, is you.”

Having said that, she patted me on the back and left the room. 

I thought on what she said for a long time and knew not when I dosed off. When I awoke, the house was quiet, rather too quiet so I came out of my room to see if anyone was home. 

It appeared I was alone for even the servants were nowhere to be found. I figured Traore had gone to hunt with the hunters. It was usual of him to accompany them, as he enjoyed any opportunity to use a weapon and at the same time, show-off his prowess. He was allowed to do this because he was the second born. 

In Kalahash, the first child of a man took after his father’s profession and was taught all the secrets of the trade. It was uncommon for a first child to show interest in another field as this was seen as irresponsible behaviour or even as spying; if I presumed to display nearly as much interest as my brother’s, well, such an action could easily arouse the hunter’s suspicion. 

He may even go further to think that my father had put me up to it with the intention of stealing his secrets. Each man was jealous of his trade because this was what stratified our society. 

All this was making a mountain out of a molehill in my opinion.

We had an overall King whose word was law and he was the brother of the emperor. But concerning the province of Kalahash, there was a ruling council answerable to the King of course. The council consisted of twenty members, ten princes, five hunters, four merchants and a physician. 

My father was the physician at that time and because he was the only physician on the council, had the power of five votes. Every year, the King allowed the council to submit a bill and because of the power my father possessed, whenever members of the council wanted to pass a new law, they tried their best to get my father on their side, as this would really help to ensure that the votes swing in their favour. 

This usually happened when non-royal members of the council had a difference in opinion with the members of the royal family; that is the ten princes. The princes would then try to curry favour from my father, likewise the non- royal ones. Whichever faction that wins in the end would then pass the bill to the King. 

Due to the power of my father’s votes, he was called the Saif; a position envied by other members of the council. He wore a golden bracelet on his right hand to signify his status. 

A physician did not always hold this position. In fact this position was determined by the people’s vote and once someone was voted as Saif, say a physician for example, no other physician was then allowed to run for such a position, as the Saif must be the only representative of his profession on the council; this was the law. 

The position was for life. So I was more or less a prince as my father was the second most powerful man in the province (except perhaps for the Quadi(judge) who also possessed a lot of influence) and almost always moved around in an entourage of black clad guard (Elites); perhaps as a by-product of his position; he was immensely affluent.

Now back to the story. Yea I awoke and found that the house was deserted, save perhaps the guards that stood at the gates and various spots in the large compound; and it was almost nightfall. I walked outside and looked towards the slave quarters; a gathering of small huts, joined by a thin corridor and could see some children sitting down on the veranda. Then I looked around, admiring the compound at night, how the floor almost reflected the moonlight, at the cattle grazing in the moonlit field, at all the ten buildings in the compound, with at least one figure dressed in black, stalking them. 

I felt the cool breeze waft around the premises and watched the grass sway in the field as a cow swished its tail; it was paradise. 

This old memory of myself appraising my father’s compound that night sometimes appears to me and I wonder why it made such an impression on my tender mind then.

 I went and sat on a chair in the parlour watching how the firelight merged with the beautiful moonlight. The soft, cool breeze flowed through the slightly open windows, I would have dozed off, when I remembered my knife. 

A strong urge came upon me to learn how to use it, and to become adept at using it, like my brother Traore was good at using the bow. But what use shall I create for it- shall I use it to carve wood? No, it was not made for carving. 

I impetuously picked up a plank lying in the quadrangle of the front house. And with pieces of red and white chalks, went on create a target. 

I then placed the target on a pole in the courtyard, moved six steps away from it and started to take aims with my knife.

The first try was horrible and my knife flew so wide, no one would believe the target was what I was trying to hit in the first place. The second, third and twentieth tries were not much better than the first and when I finally hit the target, the force was not enough to pierce the plank; making the knife to fall rather mockingly to the floor. 

I spent about two hours there and made very little progress. But the thing about activities like this is that, one always has the feeling that he’s almost there- just one more try and I would make it. And it could go on and on and on. 

Then, I heard the unmistakable footstep of Traore as he entered the compound, for the compound was paved all around except for the fields so it was possible to hear footsteps. 

I quickly took the target inside, kept my knife in its place and jumped on my bed, pretending still to be asleep. No one must know this, I told myself. I had found a new hobby other than daydreaming.

As the days went by, I spent a lot of time in the forest. There was a hidden place I found in the forest deep in the woods and I was obviously the first explorer to claim the land as I could find no tracks and all the fruits around were either ripe on the trees or on the ground rotting for lack of some enterprising individual to pluck them.

 Well I had found this place first, so it was mine, my little kingdom with the trees, the rabbits and everything as my subjects. 

I carved targets on almost all the trees around and even climbed up to carve higher and more difficult ones. Then I practiced like there was some war at hand, spending about four hours every day aiming the targets. I came now later than Traore. My mother noticed this change and asked me where I always spent my time.

I would answer, “Daydreaming in the forest,” or “shell collecting with my friends.”

She would stare at me for some time and then ask Traore about his day. Traore would give a detailed story; about how he caught sight of a rabbit, how he and all his friends had taken aim, how his arrow was the swiftest and most accurate. He could go on and on, and then he would sneer at me.

“Daydreaming huh, I think you should become a mid-wife.” my mother would burst out laughing and then Yo`u would do something stupid or annoying to gain attention.

 My father usually returned just after the sun had set and of course Traore would give him the same story he told my mother whether he asked or not, with Yo`u babbling at the same time as if he had anything worthwhile to say. My father, no matter how tired he was, would smile and pick up Yo`u while listening attentively to Traore. When Traore was satisfied, he would beam a smile at Traore, telling him how proud he was of him. He would then turn to me and inquire about my days proceedings. Not wanting to reveal my secret, I would simply answer

“It was fine.” then after a moment of awkward silence he would say something like

“Oh well, umm that’s good. Uh i am famished.” and that would be all. I would linger around after the evening meals for some time and then faze away to my room, lock the door and start aiming a target I kept in my room. 

Every third day, a tutor came to the house to teach us mathematics and some other subjects; my father would have his sons be learned, this was something he was very firm on since we rarely bothered to visit the Madrasa; that is the mosque school. 

Sometimes I stayed in the parlour with the rest of the family or played with my brother in his room. His room was forever in a state of blissful disarray; in fact he slept on his clothes, claiming that they made his bed cosier and when I commented, he would accuse me of being too girlish and advise me to ‘lion up’. 

One night he picked a talisman and showed it to me. It was fashioned in gold.

“This is a gift Muna gave to me; she says I am the bravest boy she has ever come across. No girl would give you a gift because you have the heart of a woman.”

I affected a nonchalant attitude but I had consequently lost interest in the game we had been playing and soon found a reason to retire to my room. 

The truth, as you might have guessed, is that I was slightly jealous; Muna was to me then, the prettiest girl in the province. I did not carry a flame for her exactly but I felt slighted that she would acknowledge my brother who was younger, and not me.

…….

It had been two years since I got that knife and I was nine going to ten. Traore was seven years at the least- fully my height now and slighter bigger than I was. I was not skinny but I was not muscular either; like Lameer a mutual friend of Traore and I, who looked too mature for a boy only thirteen. My knife throwing skills had increased exponentially and I rarely missed a target within fifty feet from me. Whenever I practiced in the forest, I hit the centre of the target thirty-five out of forty times. I was an expert now. It 

had gotten so easy. 

Sometimes, I faced another side and used my left hand and still succeeded in making a perfect aim or close enough. I decided to take my training to the next level. I took some gold from my cabinet, purchased ten knives from the weapons store, and marked them as usual. 

When I went to the forest, I placed four targets in a row and three in a vertical row above the four targets. Then I would count my steps making sure I was at least fifty steps away. 

This was well within my range- chalk it up to years of dedication. I placed four knives between four fingers of my right hand and then hurled the knives at the targets. Only one of the four knives hit any of the targets. 

To me this was encouraging, as I never thought it would be possible to hurl knives like that. I was now training at a higher level and spent even more time in the forest so that I started to arrive later than my father did. 

This was the slow leisurely pace of my life for my first fourteen years.

At fourteen, the creator blessed me with a few extra inches in height. I was taller than Traore now who was taller than boys his age. 

It is from this age that the strange sequence of my life started to manifest and so therefore, I shall go right to the first occurrence, the beginning of it all. 

Chapter 2

Action in the Woods

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Otoma Jiri (WIP NOVEL)

 The Story so far

Yivalis Golden Igis, a powerful bald eagle king rules over West Midovelt unaware of a simmering uprising of the prey races, spearheaded by a lowly rodent called Otoma Jiri and his visionary rodent friend, Otoma Lenu.

 

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Dive into the first 16k words of Otoma Jiri

Otoma Jiri

 

Jiri clambered up the tree branch and into the eyrie, moving with care so as not to disturb Rinal, who was asleep on his bed of fresh sagebrush. Jiri had served as house Otoma to the Yivalis golden Igis for nine winters. He learned to be careful, to be silent, to stay out of sight unless needed. One wrong move and he could be dinner.

He crept through a narrow path between Rinal’s feathers and a massive twig. He had to creep by without ruffling Rinal’s feathers and while carrying a leaf sac full of bluegrass, some yarrow and some dandelions. Sarco Maggits crawled in and out of the holes on the twig. They were a nasty bunch, these Maggits, they could leave holes in your flesh.  Only the most desperate Otoma would eat filthy Maggits.

 He trudged on with bathed breath not wanting to get too close and to avoid their stale odour. His holdor was just behind the sleeping Igis prince.

Rik his pup bundled towards the holdor entrance and then his siblings swarmed around, clamouring for the leaf sac.

“I smell yarrow stuks” Sheru squeaked

“Let me through you rodies. Would you eat the yarrows at the door?” Jiri squeaked and squirmed his way into the Holdor.

“Lots of food you’ve got for two days on the ground” Izu squeaked.

At the sound of Izu’s voice, the pups zipped through various tunnel holes that lead down to the belly of the holdor.

Izu had stiff whiskers that spiked out and took up more space than his lanky frame required. His black eyes looked down upon Jiri with disdain.

“Every mal is getting ready for the cold days. Most shrubs are picked clean.” Jiri sqeaked.

Izu leaned towards Jiri, so that his long incisors almost touched Jiris snout “We need food in the colden days not words”

He turned and crawled down a hole into the belly of the holdor. Jiri pulled his leaf sac; it felt much lighter now. 'I should have gathered more food,' he thought, and followed after Izu. The hole led to the summit of a rocky brown hill. From their vantage point, they could see the vast network of tunnels that formed the holdor, spiralling below.

Each tunnel contained a row of chambers housing various Otoma families in service to the Yivalis Golden Igis. The rocky hill radiated long spikes towards each of the tunnels, resembling a tall tree with a web of bridges. Otoma scurried up and down these rocky bridges, casting massive shadows on the high walls from the thin light that sneaked in from pin holes above the hill. Some were immersed in squeaky conversation, while others bustled with leaves and branches.

Izu crawled across one of these spikes. He paused when Jiri made no attempt to follow him."

‘There is a meeting in the scratching hall’ Izu squeaked

Jiri bit back a squeal. After spending the day down in the shrubs and escaping a Sarpentine, a young rattletine, he just wanted to crash under a heap of leaves.

“Is it a great meeting?”

“No, but your presence is required all the same,”

Morta Ili and Morta ku seemed to appear in the midst of the two Otomas.

“I’ll get the sac to the chewers” Morta Ili said and took the leaf sac from Jiri.

Morta ku tapped Jiri with her tail “You brought in the biggest sac today, all the rodies say the shrubs are picked clean”

Jiri stroked his whisker and looked at Izu

Izu swished his tail “Let’s not keep the rodies waiting,”

The two rodies crawled down a pitch dark tunnel in silence to the scratching hall. The hall was in one of the lowest and darkest tunnels of the holdor, close to the chambers of the Primo Otoma, Ratan and Morta Siru.

A shrill din of Otoma whistles and shrieks embraced the two rodies as they stepped into the scratching hall.

Jiri crawled up to one of the prickly walls and placed his back against the wall, ready to scratch. As much as he would have loved to be in his chambers, he didn’t mind getting his back scratched a bit.

Scratching felt just as good as pricking which is why his eyes were closed and his ears deaf to the sound of his approaching brethren.

He soon smelled them, a bit too close so he opened one eye. They surrounded him, all black intense eyes and floating whiskers and whiffs of damp fur.

‘Something on your tails?’

Izu stepped in front of him, ‘do you remember the last colden days?’

Jiri licked his incisor “what about those days?”

‘Dreadful days of shivering terror. I lost count of how many times I woke up from the great slumber. The Primo Otomas failed. They kept us cold and still forbid us from keeping young.’

Jiri glanced at all the Otoma standing around him ‘Only the Primos keep young, it’s the law’

Jiri’s words felt like a punch in the face ‘these laws won’t get us through the colden days. We need to prepare.’

Popular Izu, one of the eldest Otomas born by the primos and a Pretan six rodie. And that’s a high level pretani for a rodie, requiring a truly brave act, like outwitting a crazed predator. Izu did it. He once escaped a Pythine and a black stalk in one day!

‘What are you saying?’

‘You know what I’m saying. Why don’t you pick a side?’ Izu squeaked

As a Pretan four rodie, Jiri had no desire for this much fuss.

“What do you want from me?”

“Are you with us or are you for the Primos?” Izu asked.

The Otomas stood still like they would at the sight of an Igis shadow. His heart beat as fast as it would at the sight of an Igis shadow. In tense occasions like this, otoma claws have been known to find their way into otoma chows.

“Well, I am for anything that would let us rodies see a few more winters” Jiri squeaked

They still watched him and then after one drop of water found its way down to splash on Izu’s snout, the silent spell broke. Amidst their fidgeting, Izu stroked his whiskers.

“Aren’t we all?”

 

As Jiri crept into his chamber, he grunted at Rik his pup who kept tugging at his tail. He crawled gingerly unto his stone slab wrapped in coir and lay down. His indifference did not bother Rik at all who snuggled up beside him.

He had earned the right to keep young because he was the best forager in the holdor. From the moment the Primos granted him this privilege and the warmth of Morta Ili for a mate, he knew they had taken his peace.

Morta Ili crawled up to lie beside him. He was grateful for her warmth but he could do without the attention she brought. Izu saw his privilege of keeping young as a great slight. As a Pretan six, Izu thought he would be the one the Primos would choose.

Well they did not; the Primos did not care much for feelings. Ratan did not build a holdor of over two hundred otomas by caring for feelings. Ratan and his council of twelve Primos were the only mals in this holdor allowed to keep young and they were vicious should any rodie break the rules.

“You are tense tonight,” his mate said

Izu had gathered a faction of disgruntled Otoma to his cause. At least thirty mals shared his annoyance. And now they wanted him, Jiri, to show where his tail would rest. Of course he was tense tonight.

“I feel stiffness in my right leg, I can’t afford to be slower” he said.

Morta Ili stroked his belly with her tail “is that it? Must be the weather; you know the winter is coming”

Yes the winter is coming and he had to do things he would rather not do. But what choice did he have? As the chief forager, he could pick his crew and he could choose as many mals as he wished to go down to the shrubs with him.

Since the days got colder and the beasts of the ground grew more desperate, he much preferred to move through the shrubs alone. It was safer that way. But tomorrow he would choose fifteen Otoma to go down with him. And on the morrow after, another fifteen would go down with him. The Primos would never know because they rarely left their chambers. All they did was squeak and feast on the foraged fodder.

Jiri looked upon the crowd of rodies in the foraging hall. They had rolled away the rock that blocked the outside. The dim daylight cast shadows of still rodies awaiting Jiri. He walked down the row of his silent brethren. He would take the agile ones, the fittest of the bunch. He turned away from them and glanced at Izu.

‘Dimu, Yari, Rito, Oki, Saoun, come along with your burrow mates, let us go down to the shrubs’

He was doing it. He could not go back now. The rodies formed five columns behind him. Because this was a large company, he chose to go down through the entrance at the foraging hall.

Passing through the Igis chambers with this many Otoma was too risky. Rinal or one of his brothers would gleefully gobble up a couple of them before they could get down. He looked down to the ground several giraffes below. This path was not his favourite one. Too steep and too visible to the Geris Black stalks who lived just a few trees away. The Geris princes all grown up now and always ready to hunt or taunt. They were such a troublesome bunch.

None outside at the moment, he mused as he looked up at the sky for any sign of the predators floating and waiting.

“We move now, don’t stop till we get to the twelfth rock. There are holes there where we can wait.”

He blitzed down the winding path of intersecting tree branches, gripping and letting go of rock juts as any rodie would.  He passed the fourth rock with ease and leapt down, his leg bounced off the eight rock so that he careened through a spiders web and crashed down upon the twelfth rock. He quickly rushed into one of the holes to wait. The hole was just small enough to fit his frame and deep enough to evade an Avin’s beak.

His company crashed down on the twelfth rock, one after the other.

“Every rodie make it?” he asked

They took some time to check their numbers.

“None of Saouns group came through” Dimu squeaked.

And so it begins, Jiri mused. The rocks had taken their share. From down here, he could no longer see the entrance to the holdor, too many leafs and branches in the way.

“Let us head for the little stream, we can get some yarrows there” Jiri said hastily scanning up and down for any sign of a lurking predator, flying or creeping.  They could always see you before you see them. He ignored the memory of the angry Sarpentine lunging at him and chasing him up the spruce tree. Best to banish such thoughts now that he was on the ground.

He was not as quick footed as Izu. He could barely outrun a Sarpentine, worst of all, an Igis. But he’d learned of other ways to survive without being the fastest or the strongest.

“Must we get yarrows? The little stream is no place for rodies” Oki squeaked

Oki was robust in build and quick of feet. He could sniff out a hiding hole faster than a rodie could twitch its tail. He would understand the danger of going to an open space like the little stream. The stream did not have the luxury of being shaded by the canopy of the towering trees. It was just at the bald patch of the woods that received the full blast of the sunlight.

Any Igis or Black Stalk would easily notice a bunch of roadies trying to pick some Yarrows.

“The Primos asked for some yarrows. What shall we say to them?” Jiri squeaked.

He crawled down from the rock and down to the ground, taking cover under the leaves of spice brushes and elderberries.  The sweet aroma and floral scents of the berries lightened up his grim mood.

Focus Jiri, only a weary Otoma gets distracted in the shrubs, he mused as he crept further away under feathery fern leaves.

A melioped crawled across his path. He didn’t mind myriapods, solemn loners. They didn’t care much for little chats.

His heart beat faster.

“Let us go through this tunnel I found the other day, it provides all the cover we need and leads all the way to the stream” he squeaked

Oki looked relieved “that’s why you’re the best at this”

Jiri bowed and crept into a hole at the bottom of a pine tree. The tunnel lead through the trees roots and became darker and narrower, the further they went. Finally, they came out upon a patch of land surrounded by the trunks of fallen trees.

“Croak croak croak, let’s go find some water.”

A frog told his companions. They leapt away at the sight of the Otoma crowd.

“Am I the only one that smells that?” Dinmu asked.

Jiri strolled around, sniffing out a new trail.

“I…I smell it too. Is that?...” Rito paused, his eyes seemed to grow larger. Signals of danger gripped their wiris? They failed to notice that Jiri had circled back to the entrance.

“Where is Jiri?” Oki asked

“Jiri has left the scene” a shrill malevolent voice barked out.

A loud ring split the air. A ringing so loud, the Otomas felt like their brains would burst. Only the Otoma could hear the ring of terror. The rodies stood petrified by the voice and the sight of three smirking foxes standing atop the tree trunks, and looking down on them. Oki was the first to get back to the hole. But he met it sealed with a twig.

Could what he was thinking be true? Could that shifty rodie… Jiri!

“Leaving so soon, rodies” the black fox said.

The three predators stood still atop the tree trunk with crazed and eager yellow eyes. Their limbs broad and massive with glistening claws at the ready.

Nine Otoma against three foxes, he should have just crashed into a rock when they jumped down from the holdor. That would have been better, Saoun thought.

“We form the sun” Oki squeaked, trying not to tremble.

The other rodies formed a circle around him, their breaths came out in short harsh bursts.

The foxes had their claws always extended. Long sharp claws about the size of each rodies head. They seemed slightly uninterested and looked around as if they awaited another.

The black fox stepped down from the tree stump. He barely made a sound when he dropped right in front of the rodies.

Dinmu let out a loud squeal and waved his claws at the curious fox. The other two foxes still stood on the tree trunks.

“You are not weary. Ah what a treat. I am so used to meeting weary rodies” the fox barked.

Sweet stars he’s huge, Saoun thought.

He swiped his paw at the circle of rodies and had them careening towards the tree trunks. That seemed to reanimate the petrified otomas. All nine of them darted in various directions, aiming to climb up the tree trunks and escape this deathly enclosure.

“Is a quiet cove like this really the best place for rowdy lunches? You lot have got sand in my feathers,” a yellow macaw chirped and flew off.

More Avins flew off in annoyance.

But the foxes moved with blitzing speed. They stumped on each rodie before they could even get close to the trunks.

Lying in the soft earth with his back crushed and unable to move his legs, Saoun was in shock. He had heard of the speed of a predator. He wrongly assumed that if the situation ever arose, he would discover that he was capable of Pretan six movements. Surely he would be able to make a swift escape.

How naïve he had been. How could a rodie ever move that fast? The black fox gazed down on him with its greenish-yellow eyes.

“What are you weaklings? Pretan three? four? You can’t even wiggle your fat rears.”

The black fox looked around “Izu promised us that you will be fun”

He leaned slowly towards Saoun until the rodie could feel the brief warm breath of the fox. Saoun gazed at the dark cave of a mouth in front of him and the sharp fangs at the entrance of the cave.   The mouth opened, pools of saliva dropped down the fangs. Saoun felt the sharp canine blades tear through his neck muscles. He let out a desperate squeak as visceral pain shot through his tortured ratty frame. The fangs dug deep into his arteries until the fox clamped down and snapped his neck.

 

Jiri looked on the scene of his slain brethren. They lay dismembered and crushed and still. Rodies rarely stayed still.

The three foxes watched him.

“Your heart is racing. Is that regret?” Orion the black fox asked.

“Slash my cheek. I can’t return unharmed.” Jiri said.

“I could take one eye if you want” Orion sneered.

Jiri heard that loud ringing sound and used all his might to hold himself from darting off into the nearest bush.

The three foxes chuckled.

“You rodies, you will do anything to survive.” Orion said.

Jiri’s voice was a little shaky “same could be said for all mals”

Sudden as a second thought, Orion struck Jiri across the face and sent him careening. The day went dark as night. When he came to, a few moments later, the foxes had gone. He lay there alone in the midst of his dead rodies. Most of them half eaten by the feasting foxes.

His cheek stung and felt moist. At least Orion did not take one eye.  Ravens crowed in the distant sky. No sense in remaining here. They would soon swoop down in large numbers. He raced down the path eager to return to the holdor. He was too distraught to do any foraging. His bowels churned, his head throbbed and a part of him wished he would meet his end at the claws of some predator.

But he soon arrived at the base of the holdor. He climbed up steep rocks, and hid occasionally in the holes to avoid getting spotted by some flying danger. He reached the summit of the rocks and crept in through the secret passage hole.

“Who goes there?” A watcher asked.

Jiri slumped in front of the guard and passed out.

 

He lay on his slab drifting in and out of consciousness. He didn’t need to fake much. The blow Orion gave him almost crushed his skull.

Several otomas whispered around his stone slab.

“They even got Oki?”

“How can all this be real?”

 

Few weeks later…

Jiri gingerly stepped outside of his chamber. He could move now without swooning. And that explosive throb in his head had petered down. He could still feel phantoms of it but it was bearable now. He hunched his back, noting the chill. The halls were in dire need of extra yarrows and leaves. He needed to be out again to get some dandelion and clover leaves.

He made his way out to the rock summit and looked down the spiralling path of tunnels.

“Creeping good today Rodie,” Nasim, one of Izu’s cronies hollered at him.

Jiri nodded “what have I missed these past few days?”

Nasim paused, looking thoughtful “It’s been many days. We was even thinking of signing you up for the offering.”

Jiri shivered at the thought. The offering was supposed to be a couple months later. How long had he been sick?

Every three months, the otomas offered their oldest, injured and weakest members to the golden Igis. This was the pact they kept with the Igis for their own safety. Better to willingly offer their members than endure a full blown attack from the edgy predators.

 “Well as you can see I am strong now eh,” Jiri said.

“Hmm looks like it. Have you had a little squeak with Izu?” Nasim asked.

Squeaking with Izu was the last thing he wanted to do.

“See how chilly these halls are?  I need to get us some more leaves.” Jiri said pacing around “Has anyone done any foraging since then?”

Nasim’s eyes closed to slits “No one is eager to go out knowing the foxes are on the prowl.”

Two guards came up to them as they conversed.

“Jiri, its nice to see you on all fours. How is your head?” One asked.

He was a massive Otoma.

“Good as new. I feel even younger,” Jiri squeaked.

“Good, the Primos would like a word.” The guard said.

Jiri nodded and followed the guards. Nasim wanted to come along.

“Not you” the guard said with a stern look.

 

Jiri stepped into warm and cozy chambers. The leaves in here still had that fresh scent. Guards stood at every corner of the chamber. At the end of the room on a massive slab decked with twigs, and lots of Avin nests, lay the primo otomas, Ratan and Morta Siru. As usual they feasted on berries. They never seemed to run out of juicy fruits.

They were obese with enough body fat to keep a hundred otomas warm. Jiri gazed at an Igis skull at the head of the bed. How did they get their tooth on such an artefact?

Ratan with a great deal of effort, rolled over to rest on his side. His chubby cheeks looked like that of a puff adder.

“Chief forager, I see you are back on all fours,” the Primo said.

Jiri bowed “I have survived a predators blow,”

The Primo let out a raspy groan “Indeed, you have. You deserve to be pretan five now since you have proven yourself to be so hardy.”

Jiri bowed “Much obliged, my Primo”

“Hmm, how did the foxes get you all? Even Oki and Saoun?” Morta Siru asked.

“Yes, Oki and Saoun, were veterans. But we found ourselves cornered in soggy soil and the slower for it.”

“Such a tragedy,” Ratan sighed “As expected, foraging has slowed down since you’ve been out.”

The Primo youngins scurried across the walls of the chamber squealing.

“I would resume foraging as soon as possible my Primo. We still need more leaves for the halls.”

“Yes, Dari here loves to chew on the grasses.” Morta Siru said looking dotingly at her pup. “I’ve told you to stop chewing on our padding. We need them to keep warm. ”

“Of course my Primo. I would get you more grasses for the chamber once I head out.”

“Do you need some guards to go with you? Its getting wild out there” Ratan said.

“I find it easier to move alone,” Jiri said.

“Nonsense,” Morta Siru scoffed “Take as many rodies as you need. We know bad things happen in the shrubs.”

Jiri bowed and stepped out of the chamber. As soon as he returned to the main hallway, two of Izu’s cronies stepped in stride with him.

“Had a good ole talk with mom and pops eh?” Nasim said.

“You didn’t have to wait out here for me,” Jiri said.

“Its no sweat off our hides.” Nasim said, “Izu would really like a word,”

“Yea, I need to prepare for another trip down to the shrubs.” Jiri said walking ahead while the other two waited.

“It won’t take long.” Erin said.

“I’m moving on Primos orders, my friends.” Jiri said and kept it moving.

“Is this how you treat friends?” Nasim called out.

 

The sun did not shine today, leaving the shrubs cold and dark just like the past few days. He raced through his favourite paths in quick short bursts and then hid under twigs at intervals. Sometimes he wished he could remain in his chamber all day like the primos without a care in the world. But here he was back in the shrubs trying to fill his sac with twigs and leaves.

The shrill screech of what was that? Igis? Snapped him out of his musings. He remained hidden under the shrubs.

Out in the open and perched on the carcasses of two squirrels, two Igis chatted away. Yivalis Danin himself, having a chat with his son Rinal.

“Refine your swoop. You didn’t open your wings quick enough. ” Yivalis said.

“But I clawed it on first try” Rinal said.

“And if it was a Sarpentine? It would strike before you dart off. ” Yivalis said looking dissatisfied “Be fluid at all times, dilute your attacks with defence.”

Jiri tried to conceal his presence as much as possible with shallow breaths and a flattened stance. As pretan ten predators, the slightest sound could tick them off. What large monstrosities they were with their golden brown plumage.

The tension he felt made his bowels weak. He tried to hold it in but he soon let out some droppings and some piss.

The Igis looked right at his direction with wild intent eyes. What a long torturous second. And then loud blood curdling screeches filled the sky echoing like feverish nightmares. The sound of other Avins. Jiri could not tell what kind but they made him piss some more.

As if by some secret signal, the Igis, bound off into the sky. Jiri listened with relief at the thumping sound of their mighty wings flapping away in the distant sky.

He remained still, even up there in the heavens; their eyes could still pick his trail. So he remained hidden, not daring to move until nightfall.

He finally returned to the holdor with a half filled sac. At least he managed to get some grasses for the Primos.

He returned to his chamber to meet his mate Morta Ili looking quite distraught. She crouched on the stone slab lost in her worries.

“Did something happen?”

His fatigue floated away on the wings of creeping terror as he looked around the room searching.

Morta Ili glanced at him and went back to sobbing. Jiri climbed the stone slab.

“Tell me mate,” he entreated as he refused to ask her the question most burning on his mind.

But she answered it anyway.

“There was an accident.” She said.

Jiri was silent. He gingerly stepped off from the slab. “What happened?”

“Rik, he fell off from the fourth floor..”

“No, is he…” Jiri asked but she swished her tail.

“He’s still alive but he’s delirious.”

“Hooo…how..” Jiri sighed, looking around. “Where is he?”

His mate let out loud squeals “He…Izu took him because he’s wounded. They plan to serve him along for the offering.”

Jiri turned and darted out of the chamber.

“Jiri,” she called.

But he was past listening. His head drummed the beats of terror. He had to make it in time. He soon barged into the shedding hall. The Igis preferred their offering helpless. So the otomas broke the limbs of their brethren to make them palatable.

As he stepped in, he could hear the hollow squeals of rodies getting their limbs crushed.

“Izu!! You denizen of the swamps. Rotten, filthy excuse for a maggits waste! Where are you?”

Izu and his cronies popped up in front of him.

“Something on your tail? This is no place for decent folk.” Izu said.

Jiri trembled with blinding rage “How…how dare you touch my pup?”

“How dare I? I don’t appreciate your tone, chief forager.” Izu said stroking his whiskers.

He looked around “All of us serve a greater purpose. We all have to make sacrifices for the good of this holdor. No exceptions.”

“Oooh I make sacrifices all right. I just returned from the shrubs when no other rodie would dare!” Jiri glanced around for Rik. “Who are you to tell me about sacrifices?”

Izu looked at his cronies “Your efforts are not lost on us. We are grateful for all that you do.” He stepped closer to Jiri until they were snout to snout.

“All this can be avoided if we honour our previous arrangements,” Rik said.

Jiri stepped back as it slowly dawned on him that Rik’s fall may not be accidental afterall.

“You nasty, putrid excuse-”

“We can be cordial about this or I could carry out my duties as the offering gatherer, Jiri.” Izu said stepping away “The choice is yours.”

“If I take more of our brethren down into the shrubs and another… tragedy occurs, the primos would be suspicious.”

Izu was quiet. He rubbed his belly “It’s too late to develop a conscience my friend. I promised Orion and his gang fifty otomas.”

Jiri gasped “What?”

“Yes, what do you think will happen if…we, fail to hold up our end of the bargain?” Nasim said.

“You deliver as promised and I would handle the Primos..” Izu said.

“Can I have my pup?” Jiri asked.

Izu turned to return to a sorry otoma lying on a slab. “We shall nurse him for you. Just don’t keep the foxes waiting.”

 

Otoma Lenu

He used to be a quiet little pup. In the early months of his life he was fully aware of the darkness. His first thoughts were of the teeming mass of his brethren swarming around one another inside their dark chamber in the holdor.

Perhaps it was fun for the others but it took a while for him to get over the constant darkness. So he kept chasing the light. The bright run, he called it. He would chase those tiny pin hole lights on the walls of the holdor. Some holes he found so high up that he would have to hang upside down from the ceiling of the holdor. He found it tricky and difficult at first to crawl on the ceiling of the holdor. Being so high up, he could barely hear the incessant squeals and chatter from down below.

Once he perfected the upside down crawl, he shunned the ground. He never used the winding steps in the main hall. He remained overhead and far out of reach. But the bright run required lots of energy and so did the upside down crawl. So Lenu constantly searched for food and his search took him to a new hole at a corner of the ceiling.

A nice draft showed that the hole led somewhere interesting. He crawled through the dark hole, creeping as stealthily as he could. Strange smells cascaded him in waves; bloody smells of death and malevolence. He should turn back, he mused. The bright run would get real gloomy if he met the source of these strange smells for this did not smell like Otomas.

The bright light reached out to him, the closer he got to the entrance of the tunnel, it made him squint. For a while, he paused just at the mouth of the hole, letting it all seep in. He heard screeching and rustling sounds. This must be the Igis chambers. He knew from conversations he’d overheard from pa and ma that, they, the Otomas, lived under the Igis eyrie. So there were other ways to get out of the holdor apart from the main door, he mused as he crept around the corners of this massive chamber.

What a chamber, padded with feathers and soft leaves and grasses. But the sky, he could see the sky from here. It felt like he was standing in the clouds.

“Are you lost, little Otoma?” A shrill voice called out from behind him.

All his fur stood up as if frozen in shock. He could not move. He never heard it approach but that was for sure the voice of a golden Igis.

He turned and saw it, looming over him. The talons alone were as big as his full frame.

“You are so tiny, are you an offering?” The Igis asked.

Lenu moved like a missile and hurtled for a hole his eye spotted behind a bony heap….a bony heap of an animal that was obviously much larger than him. But the Igis appeared right in front of the hole.

“I am Rinal Yivalis. My parents have been gone for days on a hunt so you might as well entertain me.” The Igis said and folded its legs to rest on its stomach.

Lenu slowly stepped back. This Igis acted strange. Mom and Dad said that Igis were evil and brutal and preternatural. They could tell what you would do before you did it. But this Igis did not seem so sinister.

“Lenu,” muttered the young Otoma.

“You are too small for me to eat. I could feast on ten of you and still need some more,” Rinal said. “But my brother is less forgiving. Look at him over there, fast asleep.”

Lenu felt a deepened sense of unease. There was another Igis around? He barely noticed..There he was perched up on a mass of fur, deep in sleep. He looked even bigger than Rinal. Big brother, Lenu mused.

Rinal watched him with curiosity.

“What is it like down there in your hole? Mother says that you rodies are endless like sand.”

Lenu slowly edged away from the Igis. His tail pointed up, but the predator made no attempt to move.

“There’s hundreds of us and its dark. There’s always fighting and hiding and more fighting and then we eat.” Lenu said.

“Isn’t that nice? You rodies seem to have all the joy. I have to stay up here and wait and wait and wait. I still have not learned how to fly. I just hop and fall.” Rinal said.

Could he be so friendly because he was still young? Maybe he would change when he learned to fly. Lenu mused.

“It must be pleasant to look forward to flying.  I would never know how to fly.” Lenu said.

Just then an Avin cawed in the distance. He saw it fly into another sky chamber quite like this one. But it was not an Igis. It had black wings with a long beak and it was bigger than Rinal.

“Geris, our neighbours, the black stalks” Rinal said. That’s Anul, he’s a bit older than my brother. He learned to fly a long time ago.”

Lenu was fascinated by the open nature of the chamber. His brethren could never be comfortable in a place so open.

“Is it not too bright, anyone could be watching from afar.” Lenu said.

“Not many can come so high up. And not many would dare to -” Rinal paused

“What pretan are you?” he asked.

“Probably pretan two” Lenu said.

“I know you rodies rarely go past pretan seven. But what if you trained more? My father forces my brother to practice his dives for hours. That’s why he so tired now.”

With great difficulty, Lenu glanced at Rinal. He did not want to stare too hard. Mother said that predators hate it when you stare, better to look down. But was the Igis mocking him? What training would ever help one to ascend the pretani ranks? Some were born blessed and others well, cursed. And that’s the way it is.

“How fast can you crawl, if you need to? How high can you jump?” Rinal asked.

“I don’t know, not as fast as you…” Lenu said.

“Wrong. Father says the right answer is fast enough. You must always be fast enough.” Rinal said.

Lenu stroked his whisker and swished his tail “Your father is blessed, that’s why.”

“Father says, the whole world is cursed. You make your own blessings.”

Just then, something shifted, perhaps a shadow. Rinal screeched and leapt up from his seat. Lenu just moved with all his might towards the hole he came from.

“You let it get away!” He heard another Igis yell.

But he was safe inside the hole again. He slowly crept back until he was back on the ceiling. Now for some reason, his hands failed to grip against the ceiling. He felt like all his strength had been sucked away and he was nauseous. Oh no, he was too high up, he thought as his hands let go of the ceiling. He fell off and crashed down in the dark. He kept flailing, hoping to hold on to something. His whole body especially his feet tingled with dread until finally, it all went dark.

When he woke up, he was in a strange chamber. It was cold and moist and smelled like sage leaves and maggits. He tried to move but his body betrayed him.

“You are a hardy little one eh, where did you fall from?” An old voice squeaked.

“Who is that?” he asked, it was even darker than normal.

“I am Morta Runi. Not many rodies manage to find me here but I heard you crash just outside my chamber” she said.

“I cannot move,” Lenu said.

“Your limbs are crushed. If the others found you, they would put you up for the offering. I am surprised that you survived although death would have been a mercy.” She said.

Lenu was silent. Yes, he fell from the ceiling. He’d just come from the Igis eyrie.

“I was talking with Igis before I fell,”

“You were? What were you talking about?” Runi asked.

“Rinal, a young Igis told me that the world is cursed and you have to make your own blessings.”

“Did he push you off a ledge after saying that?” Runi asked.

“No, I think his brother tried to kill me but I escaped and then I fell.”

“I am old, I stay out of sight because I don’t want to be an offering and I like my peace. If you will stay here with me, you will have to eat maggits.”

Lenu was silent. He was used to staying still. He used to spend hours up in the shadows, watching his brethren. Wasn’t it unfair that in this cursed world, he must now live like this? What blessing could be made out of this? He would love to ask Rinal’s father if he could make a blessing out of this.

For the next few days, not that Lenu had any idea of the passing days; he fell in and out of feverish dreams. In one of the dreams, he was in a chamber quite like this one, dark and silent and chilly. A thick smoke with the fragrance of berries wafted towards him. And in the center of the smoke he saw two green eyes, sarpentine eyes. The smoke hissed and snarled and would consume him for sure but he woke up.

He woke up panting like he’d been running from predators. Just a dream, he mused. The silence of the chamber bothered him. Where did Runi go?

“Morta Runi,” he called out.

She did not heed his call. He lay for a while in silence and perhaps drifted off into sleep again. Yet again the serpentine smoke reached for him, hissing and snarling as if it would consume him.

“Morta Runi!” he yelled from his slumber.

“What is it little one?” she whispered.

“Dreadful dream,” Lenu said.

“It is normal.” She said “Your fever rages.”

“I see a Sarpentine in the smoke. I keep dreaming of it. It is so horrible, I don’t want to see it again” he cried.

“A Sarpentine?” Morta Runi said “You see it in the smoke?”

“Yea, it covers me and takes my breath away. But it has a sweet smell.”

Morta Runi squeaked. He could feel her draw closer to him. He could feel her scent for she scented like rotting wood.

“Have you heard of the old tales” she asked.

“What tales?”

“The Sarpentine King that ruled all the northern lands and the frost hills and western lands and marshes and even as far as the Antine outposts of the east. Only the Antine queen was not brought under his rule.”

“No I have never heard of such a tale. How did he rule the northern lands? Did he conquer the Igis and all the crows and ravens and black stalks and the mighty beasts including the Feline race?” Lenu asked.

“He possessed a strange power, no one could oppose him until the avalanche came and buried his kingdom and almost all malkind,” Morta Runi said.

Lenu was silent, pondering on the greatness and splendour that Runi described.

“Some say he never truly existed and that he is just a story. Others say he still lives in the frost regions, under mountains of ice.” Morta Runi continued.

“Why have you thought of him now?” Lenu asked.

“They say our holdor, and the eyrie above and this forest rests upon the land where he kept his court. There are old tales that claim that his remains are somewhere in this jungle and that there is great power for the one who finds him.” Morta Runi said.

“You think I dream of his wiri?” Lenu asked.

“I have also had dreams of a Sarpentine in the smoke,” Morta Runi said.

Lenu felt exhausted again. He would give anything to eat some yarrows. His eyes drooped close but he fought to stay awake. He did not want to see that terrifying dream again.

When he woke up Morta Runi offered him maggits to eat. She scooped up the maggits with her tail and fed them to him. He hated these meals but he ate them anyway.

As the days went by, Morta Runi kept filling up the chamber with husks and fur from her long sojourns outside.

“Do you venture outside of the holdor?” Lenu asked when he noticed the shrubs and leaves and all the things she brought.

“Yes, there are many ways in and out of the holdor. I know of tunnels that lead several Sareps away from here,”

As the days got colder, she soon stopped her trips. By then she had stuffed the chamber enough to keep the cold out.

“We would soon fall into the sleep.  Let us hope we wake to see the sun again.” Morta Runi said.

He must have slept first because he could not recall waiting for Runi to go to sleep. But he was lucky, he slept throughout the winter. Not every mal can sleep throughout the winter without interruptions. Sometimes the cold cuts in deep enough to break the sleep.

He opened his eyes to see the chamber dimly lit. Ice hung off the ceiling and dropped into little pools of water at various corners of the chamber. He twitched his tail and it responded. And when he tried to move his limbs, they obliged him. In good spirits, he slowly rose up from his slab and hopped down to the ground. He felt sprightly and agile. He had to wade through thick films of cobwebs as his eyes searched around for Morta Runi.

But he was alone in the chamber. Did she wake before him? He blitzed around the room, thrilled by the way his body felt so light and so quick. But she was not there.

So he crawled out, taking care to crawl up to the ceiling. He had to crawl through rows of ice, wet and sharp. The holdor was still quiet. Few Otomas milled around bursting with energy. But the lot were still in sleep. They would wake in the coming days. He tried to pick her out among the awake few but she was not there. She was not the type to be found in the hallway since she preferred her own company.

For days he searched for her. He found various new holes leading to hidden chambers but they were all empty. He soon crawled through one hole that led down a long tunnel. He went all the way and came out under the roots of a large tree. Red antines crowded the entrance of the hole, speaking in the Antine tongue. He dashed past them as fast as he could. They were a troublesome bunch, territorial and brutal but they paid him no mind.

He stood before a large field and moved as slightly as he could, trying not to ruffle the tall blades of grass in order not to pique the interest of a Sarpentine lurking beneath the glades. The sweet smell of the grass and the warm light of the sun made him want to leap through the field with gleeful abandon. He could hear Avins sing in the sky and he had to admit that this must be one of the blessings that Rinal’s father spoke of.

He soon happened upon a large fruit burst open from its fall. He rushed to it and sunk his teeth in it, delighting in the sweet flowing juice.

After eating, he sighted a hare atop a tree branch. It was trying to reach at an almond fruit.

“Oi, need a little help with that?” he called out.

“I’ll be just fine,” the hare said without even looking to see where he was.

Lenu darted out of the field and raced up the tree. He moved gingerly on a slight branch and atop leaves like he was weightless until he reached the fruit.

Elegant batoflayes flew past him. Their brilliant wings shimmered and cast iridescent rays on the tree top.

“There you go,” he said and handed the fruit to the hare.

The hare frowned at him but took the fruit all the same.

“Look if there’s something you want, I ain’t got it, Rat.” The hare said.

“Otoma, that’s what we called” Lenu said.

“Oh you are of them slick rats that live close to them Igis. Going by them slick names.” The hare said.

“We have been Otoma for generations.” Lenu said “We’re not just woodrats”

“Haah, as I live and breathe. I cannot with you guys. Anyway what do you want?” The hare asked as he munched on his fruit and scratched his rear at the same time.

“I have heard of your speed. You are pretan seven, the fastest of the rodies.” Lenu said.

“Eight actually, Pretan eight. I’ve escaped monstrosities you wouldn’t even dare to dream of.” The hare said strutting about on the tree branch.

“Well, how do you move so fast?” Lenu asked.

The hare paused, looking thoughtful “uh, you know, you just tilt your rear towards the sun. Always arc your tail to face the earth and uh try to hop instead of run. Why?”

Lenu raced down the tree to the ground. “Like this?” he said and did like the hare said.

“Uh no” the hare said and came down from the tree “really arch your back. I’m not seeing the curve. Your spine don’t bend at all?”

Lenu bent his spine as best as he could but the hare kept shaking his head. He hopped as fast as he could and felt he’d made some progress.

“You’ll never outrun a pup with a back like that. Otoma, Haah,”

“Well how do you get your back to be so free?” Lenu asked.

“Know what, I’ll take you to my den, I’m sure they can get your back stretched. I’ve seen them do it.” The hare said.

Lenu nodded “Gladly.”

“But you must help me pack some fruits.  They would rip my hide if I come up empty handed”

Lenu packed fruits and placed them in his mouth like the hare but he could not take as many as the hare could. The hare glared at him with dissatisfaction and then gave up.

“Try to keep up” he gargled with all that fruit in his overstretched mouth. What did he think he was, a squirrel?

That said, he zipped like a thunder bolt, leaving Lenu in a wake of dust. Lenu hopped after him so that they ran into the large field. Lenu was convinced that he moved faster now.  As the blades of grass became a blur. He could barely keep note of the path they followed. He could barely keep up with the hare which was but a little black speck in a field of green blades and white and purple and red flowers of daisies and dandelions and other pretty leaves.

They blazed past grasshoppers, resting against grass stalks with arms folded in deep conversation. Until he soon noticed that they were descending down a grassy hillside and down into a tunnel. The hare moved even faster now. Lenu felt like his heart would explode. He needed to rest but if he did the hare would surely disappear so he tried his best to go on.

He realized that the sand was sinking sand. If he halted too much he would sink in. Eventually they hopped above a small hill and dropped down. They fell several feet down a winding tunnel, bumping into tree roots and bug holes and spider lairs. It seemed to Lenu like the fall would not end until they arrived at a network of tree branches, low branches, under the earth.

Lenu fell to his knees, heaving and with a firm belief that he would surely die. How far had he strayed from the holdor? Would he ever find his way back?

He followed the hare into a chamber inside one of the branches.

“Welcome to Swifthin of the nether boundaries of the Westies.” The hair gargled and then spat out all his fruits inside a hole at a corner of the chamber.

The chamber teemed with other hares who shrieked at his arrival.

“This my new Rat friend, uh Otoma. He’s from the Rockies, he lives in the eyries with the Igis Lords.”

“Oooh, no ordinary rodie. I hear you guys live it real good up there and that predators keep clear of you.” Another hare said. He looked older than, Lenu glanced at his new friend, realizing that he never said his name.

“Monse” the hare said as if reading Lenu’s mind “and you really kept up with me. You are a quick one eh?”

“I assure you, the rockies are a brutal place too. But yea we don’t get many predators knocking at the door.” Lenu said.

“Did you really keep up with Monse?” the older hare asked.

“Aye I just arched my back and hopped like he told me,” Lenu said.

“By the heavens, I’ve never seen Otomas move so fast,” Monse said, patting Lenu’s back “I’m really a gifted teacher.”

“You were saying something about getting my back stretched.” Lenu said.

“Ah yes,” Monse said, looking at his household “so his back don’t curve like ours. I was thinking we could give it a good old stretch,”

“Oh sweet berries and nuts, he’s an Otoma, their back don’t got much stretch to give,” a female hare screeched out.

“Eh just by a little then. He helped me get a real juicy almond. I thought I was never gonna reach it. Should have seen him floating on the tree branch like some Mantis,” Monse said.

“Stretching could hurt,” the older hare said.

“I can deal with the pain,” Lenu said.

The old hare got up from his little stump and went to the door of the holdor. They followed him down a stretch of tree branches until they got to a small dark tunnel. Thick spider webs lined the entrance to the tunnel so that it looked uninviting.

All the hares stopped at the entrance and motioned for him to go in.

“What exactly is in there?” Lenu asked no longer sure he wished to go further.

“I’ll be real honest with you. Anondray lives in there and he is ruthless. But his venom has certain unique qualities that if you survive would leave you much improved.”

“Much improved?” Lenu asked,

Monse leaned towards him “If you survive.”

Lenu stared at the entrance of the tunnel and then crawled in.

The tunnel was damp and cold as expected. It smelled of rot and fresh decay. Lenu crawled slowly, noting the web cocoons of insect forms, inmates of this web prison. He soon realized that his movement was slowly restrained. He looked down and noticed the light webs woven around his limbs. With each step he took, the webs became tighter. He hopped in an attempt to break away from the webs but they hardened, leaving him further stuck.

Soon, he could no longer move. He stood at the middle of a web net between four tree branches. Barely any light came in here and he saw using his rodie senses. He stayed there for a long while, writhing and squirming as the webs wrapped further around his furry frame until he could no longer swish his tail.

“Have you gone so weary, you would seek a spider in his own lair?” A slight voice asked. It sounded like a whisper. The Insectis spoke like this with windy voices only barely audible.

“I am Otoma Lenu, I wish for an audience with Anondray,” Lenu said.

“Is that why you broke into my lair?”

“Oh, I thought the door was open” Lenu said.

“You thought wrong, you are trespassing”

“Since you have me wrapped up like a gift, you could at least look me in the face while we talk” Lenu said.

“You are so full of wiri, not like a rodie that would willingly walk into a spider’s lair. Were you tricked?”

“Tricked?” Lenu said.

Was he…tricked? Hares could be quite sneaky but they had no reason to.

“I could hear the hares at my gates. What were they saying?”

“That you are a most gracious host. Was that trickery?” Lenu said.

“My face is the stuff of horrors. Would you really like to see?”

“Do you want to show me?”

“Tell me, what drives you to venture into the lair of an Arraknis. You came in here of your own will.”

Lenu kept scanning around for the source of the voice.

“A young Igis prince once told me to make my own blessings in a cursed world like ours.” Lenu said.

“And you would find your blessing in my lair?”

“Yes, I will make you my blessing, Anondray.” Lenu said.

The spider seemed to emerge from thin air. He must have been standing behind thin reflective webs.

He appeared so monstrous with massive hairy limbs as large as a tree with sharp bladed tips. Lenu counted more than eight eyes; big black eyes as deep as a vipers hole that looked like dark moons on grey rocks.

“Are you blessed now?”

“I am short of words to describe how I feel and short of breath too,”

“Otoma Lenu, you will die today. Maybe that would be a blessing.” Anondray said.

“I don’t want to die. I want to learn the ways of the Arraknis” Lenu said.

Anondray was still for a while. He just looked on the rodie.

“Can you spurn webs from your lips?”

“My lips can weave a web of tales.”

The spider crouched before the Otoma, “tell me a tale then”

“Umm, okay, have you heard of the The Sarpentine King that ruled all the northern lands and the frost hills and western lands and marshes and even as far as the Antine outposts of the east”

“Have I heard of the Sarpentine king? Of course I have, I spun webs in his courts and. I built his palaces, edifices of great splendour. I built the nets that kept out the wasp hosts and the bees and the avin assassins. I have lived for several generations beyond what you can think and yet you ask?”

Lenu was intrigued “I had no idea that I was standing in the presence of a mal of such inestimable value. I have come to the right place. Teach me your ways.”

“You are a rodie. You think because you live under an eyrie that you are highborn?”

“I am going to find the remains of the Sarpentine king.” Lenu said.

“What pretan are you?”

“Pretan six, I think,”

“Mighty predators of high pretan ranking, sixteen, seventeen have tried to venture into the dark valley where his remains are rumoured to be found. And none has succeeded.”

“What befalls them?” Lenu asked, brimming with curiosity.

“They come out as hollow shadows of their past selves, emaciated and maimed. Some never return. But you would find the king’s remains with your pretan six gifts.”

“This is why you are my blessing. I am lucky to find you.”

“I am your curse, Otoma. Once you die from my venom. Your husk will lay wrapped in my cocoon along with all the others in here.”

“That is trickery. Your venom cannot kill me, I have survived worse. I have had all my limbs crushed but here I stand hale and hearty before a great and ancient Arraknis”

The spider moved so fast and stabbed his blade right in Lenu’s heart. The rodie heard his heart beat for it was a loud beat. His eyes bulged and moved out of their normal bounds so that they dropped out of the sockets.

He groaned and shrieked and his body stretched until his limbs popped and loosened from their joints. He sunk on the webs like a hollow bag of fur.

“I enjoyed our conversation, Otoma Lenu. I will remember you.” The Arraknis said and slipped behind the web veils so that he disappeared.

Darkness enveloped him, the true darkness of the blind. Silence embraced him, the true silence of the deaf. He felt cold and alone and without form. He could not tell where his head was nor could he account for the direction of his limbs. And his thoughts would not form. He could only wait like as if in a fall, waiting to be smashed to bits.

For a season, he remained in this state of spastic death, feeling nothing but the sharp cold. It came in waves, sharp and electric. But the cold wave washed over his frame as it had done countless times before. This time, he felt it on his back, flowing all the way down to his tail. I can feel my tail, he mused. I can hear my wiri he thought.

He still remained motionless as wave after wave of the deathly cold washed over his frame until his limbs twitched. His eyes blinked open. He saw the webs first, so close to his face. He never noticed how flaky and thin these webs could be. Threads dropped off one another, the thinnest of threads and they were of different shades of the faintest blue not white or grey as he’d always assumed.

He flexed his limbs and heard the webs around him shred open. They made a thin stripping sound like the rustle of dry leaves. It felt like the sounds were more intense. He could hear the sound of webs drawing against webs. The arraknis was still weaving, yes that was the sound he heard. It constantly spun more webs in this pale palace of silken threads.

He shrieked and trashed and ripped the webs around him so that he fell down to land on the web net in the centre of the tree branches. He looked around, realizing that he had been wrapped in a hanging cocoon like all the other mals trapped in here for all time.

“Otoma Lenu, by what power have you survived?” he heard the airy whisper.

Web waves erupted from the net and advanced towards him. He leapt up into the air noting the threads sneaking up his feet. He bounced off the cocoons and darted for the entrance, swiping his tail at errant web forms that tried to gain grip on his furry frame. At some point the walls of the lair moved to squish him between. But he blitzed through in the fraction of the moment and dropped on all fours just outside the lair. Some errant threads still reached for him like pale fingers but he swiped them off with his tail.

Hares milling about on the branches paused to look at him, as if they had seen a wiri.

“He came out from the lair,”

“Oi he just popped out.”

Lenu realized that he was wrapped in Anondrays web. It formed a silken coat around him and his claws looked longer and darker than they had been before.

“Any of you know where I can find Monse?” he called out to the small crowd that watched him.

 “Come, I’ll take you to Monse.” One of the hares said.

The small procession of hares led him down the branch way.

“You must have been in there for a long time eh?” one of them asked.

“Ai, you’ve gone all silver too,”

 They kept bumping against him and rapping out question after question. Good thing they soon arrived at Monse’s door.

Monse already heard the ruckus and popped his head out from some hole above the door.

“Anyone find a golden nut or something?” he asked, looking a bit peeved by the noise. Then he paused  “this can’t be real, must be a wiri.”

“Oi you come on out Monse,” the crowd called out to him.

Monse soon popped out along with his family. His eyes wide with shock.

“Didn’t expect to see me again? Its not been so long has it?” Lenu said.

“What? Its been two, three winters? I thought you was dead.”

The world seemed to shrink around Lenu. Had he really been in the cocoon for so long? Wow, he’d been away from the Holdor for three winters? He had to go back.

“And you look mighty different now. You even look kind of slick haah,” Monse said.

“Well, come on in, tell us everything.” The old hare said.

They feted him with lots of nuts and fruits and he could barely get his words out because the hares kept crawling over him, inspecting him, sniffing him and feeling his fur like he was some sort of novelty.

“You really stood before Anondray. I’ve never met anyone who has” said Monse’s mate who he now knew to be Lucritte.

“You all thought I would not survive but you let me go in there.  You made it seem like it’s the normal way to get stretched,” Lenu said.

They were silent for a while.

“Ai, I let you know the risks. You went in. No one pushed you” Monse said.

“There’s stories of others, predators who sought out Anondray to unlock their innate gifts. His venom is powerful but only few survive. Very few.”  Lucritte said.

Tricky hares, Lenu mused.

“I have been away from my holdor for too long. Can you show me the way back to the grass field?”

“No worries, I’ll take you there. And it’s called Midovelt. You don’t even know your regions. What do you learn in that holdor of yours?” Monse chided.

Lenu relaxed on his tree stump.

“Tell me about the regions,” he said.

“Your holdor and the house of Yivalis, and the house of Geris and the House of Venthal, lord of the vultures, and the house of Dorin, lord of the crows, all live on the west of Midovelt including the Bald Igis dukes and the Raven lords.

There you can also find the Foxes, and the Kanine Clans and all the Wolf Lords. The rodies reside in the midwest except for you posh otomas and other slick rodies that live in the cacti planis and under the eyries of the Avins of prey.

Further east, we have the Sarpentine holes and forests, full of giant creeping monstrosities. The great Araknis dens with web towers and castles housing the Araknis lords. Somewhere in the east there is a Leones city, where a Mighty Leonis king rules with his tribe of sixty Leon lords. It is a fierce and brutal land. And most of the Felis race prowls the eastern lands although some wanderers and scouts travel to the west occasionally.

The south is the most advanced region with incredible marvels for the antine queen lives there in her ancient city of Antinath close to the great sea. The bee colonies are also in the south.

And as for the north, It is cold and terrible, home to the House of Ranolis, the golden Igis king. Some Felis tribes, apes and White Baris also live there.”

Lenu crunched on a nut, “and where can I find the dark valley?”

The hares went silent,

“What could you possibly want with that accursed place?” Lucritte whispered.

“Ai you seek for death at every turn, haah” Monse said.

“Deep in the eastern lands, in the city of Leones. It is not a place for rodies.” The old hare said.

 

The hares followed Lenu all the way back to Midovelt. They stopped under the almond tree where Lenu first met Monse.

“This is Greenvale, my Otoma friend.” Monse said and glanced up at the tree.

Two solemn crows stood atop a branch on the almond tree watching them. They flew off once Lenu looked up.

“Till we meet again,” Lenu said and leapt off into the fields of Midovelt.

“Till we meet again, silver Otoma,”

“Till we meet again, Otoma Lenu”

“Till we meet again…” the hares kept yelling out to him. He could hear their faint din as he rushed ahead. Could he still remember the way? It had been so long since he’d been back home.

 

Yivalis Danin

He soared over his lands. Azul his eldest son glided just a few levels below. The boy had gained his full plumage, he mused. It was time to test him with high level pretanis of similar ranking to show his prowess so that his dread would spread across the land. Danin’s eyes pored over the little hills at the outskirts of his domain. You could always rely on some wandering Felis rogue to get into a skirmish with his border crows.

Azul veered towards the eastern border.

“What’s rot with the crows?”

A flurry of dark winged speeding shadows or so they looked under the waning evening light, buzzed around like a whirl wind just around the valley at the eastern border. He focused a bit, enlarging his visual range so that the angry crows zoomed closer to his view. They surrounded two bob cats who as usual looked bored like they just wanted to stick their claws in some mal’s flesh.

His interest piqued, he swooped closer to the ruckus.

“Tis what the lord commands,”

A crow cawed.

The bob cats never blinked “what lord?”

“Whet lerd?” mocked the crow as he slid around the two hunters and their bleeding deer.

“Hand over the hind portion of your kill and we’ll be gone.”

 The bob cats moved closer to their kill and sniffed it, licking the dripping blood.

“And since we refuse?”

The addressing crow landed on the grass and folded his wings.

“I don’t think that would be wise,”

Sudden as a stab in the heart the bob cat took a swipe at the crow. It should have sent the crows head flying down the field. But two other crows moved just as swiftly.

Danin looked at his son, “Azul, go down and be the judge.”

“With pleasure.”

The young Igis sped down and alighted right in the middle of the altercation.

“Who disturbs the peace?”

The bob cat let out a feral scream “You took my eye.”

His eye was between the beak of the flight leader who lifted his head to face the sky and slowly gobbled down the Felis eye.

“Lord Azul, you honor us with your company,” after eating up the eye.

“These wanderers killed a deer on your father’s land and refuse to remit the hind portion.”

Azul strutted around the two felis folk. He had the upper hand here. Slippery grass was not made for cat claws.

“Is this true?” he asked.

The bob cat bared his fangs, his one eye screamed murder.

“We know of no lord. This hunting ground is rich in prey. My brother and I would make it our own.”

“Would you do that with one eye?”

The crows cawed.

The one eyed cat hissed and lunged at Azul but he took flight before it could reach. The wind from his thumping wings shook the grass and parted the cat’s whiskers.

Azul ate up the eye he just snatched. “too slow,”

“Hrraawl” the cat groaned in blind misery.

The other cat turned and fled from the crowd. It sprinted for tree cover, towards Greenvale but Azul stepped in its path.

“Would you run off like common prey?”

“You’re real tough hiding behind your crows.” The cat growled with his claws out.

“Its not the crows you should be worried about, bob”

The cat tensed and crouched lower.

Azul said “The night is upon us and I will end you in one strike.”

The cat stayed still “silly, silly”

Danin watched from above, brimming with interest. What a blessing to find two high level pretanis just like he hoped for.

For a long while, and it was truly long because the day went so dark he had to use the dark sight; this cast a filter on the grassy plane, splotching the grass blades with beaming purple and the mals with muted blue. But the two beasts, Igis and Felis, remained frozen in murderous contemplation.

Finally, Azul dropped lower, to hover well within the Felis reach. He spread his wings and then shut them down. From his spread winged stance, he aimed for that burst of maximum speed at such a low altitude.

The Igis combat style relies on swift precise attacks with few pauses. An Igis must predict the opponents move so that a fight is over after the first strike. Two strikes could be forgiven but not a third one. Could his son do it?

The blind cat kept howling and beating around, trying to find its way as the crows taunted it.

The two beasts advanced towards one another. Azul swooped down as the bob cat leapt up. Danin noticed Azul’s spin right before he stabbed the cat in the neck with his talon. They streaked by, blue streaks of mass, careening off in opposite directions. They both crashed a way from each other. Feathers and fur tuffs, looking silvery blue to his dark sight, floated about in the night breeze.  Azul never touched the ground, he just took flight. But when the cat landed in a heap, it jerked on the ground but did not rise up.

“Lord Azul just slew a bob cat. He is pretan sixteen.” A crow cawed.

“Lord Azul just slew a bob cat. He is pretan sixteen.” He cawed again and again as he flew off into the dark night.

Just then, about five bald Igis flew down and perched on the slain deer. Danin glided down, bathing the intruders with the wind from his flapping wings. Thump thump thump thump. He balanced on a small rock.

“What is the meaning of this?” he queried.

Buni preened “colorful night, cousin. The purple lights blaze like the moon,”

“Get your claws off that deer,”

“Why, there is meat for all of us.”

“You waited for Azul to finish off the Felis folk. You are pathetic.”

“I like to work smart,”

Danin stepped off the rock and floated towards the deer.

“Not on my lands,”

Buni and his band flapped their wings and perched further down the field, leaving the carrion.

“Its not supposed to be this way. This was my father’s land.”

“He’s with the worms now and you are trespassing.”

The crows began to fly around and encircle the Igis folk. Buni looked up and perhaps realized that he was outnumbered.

“Like, I said, it’s a beautiful night. I will wander for a bit,” with that, he flapped his wings and steadily gained altitude with his companions in tow.

Azul came to stand beside his father, watching the rising Avins.

“I don’t trust the baldies,”

“Good,” Danin said and sunk his beak in the deer.

“This one has the dark blood, must have been well frightened. Delicious.”

All the crows stood still with their wings folded, about one hundred of them. All waited for him to have his fill of the deer. And then Azul followed suit, tearing at the flesh and gobbling it up.

“Good job crows,” Danin said and bound up into the air.

Two crows flew towards him “my lord, we saw an Otoma in the company of hares,”

“And the night is dark, what else is strange?”

“Just that he had on a coat of spider webs, well crafted.” The crow explained.

“A fancy Otoma. I don’t care for this,” he said and thumped his wings to lift off from the field.

 

The time drew near for his meeting tonight with the lords of the peaks, all the flying lords of Midovelt. He was their superior and could be tardy if he pleased but then they would get to scheme in his absence. So he lurched at full speed for Nalon, the mountain top where he held his court. He could hear his son hurtling through the currents behind him. Just then a powerful gust blazed out of nowhere but he soared higher and evaded it. A storm was brewing. Dark and stormy nights brought the worst out of feisty lords.

He soon noticed Nalon below. The cozy embrace of snow-capped peaks. Crows and ravens encircled the mountain flying at rapid speeds, to form a perimeter. They cawed and screeched without end. Vultures communed with one another, perched on the walls of the mountain.

He moved like a lightning bolt, lancing through the gaps between the flying guards and alighted in the midst of his court. He glided up to perch on his ledge, a rock jutting that lanced up from the mountain peak. The other lords stood on their ledges, looking up to him.

“Lord Yivalis Danin, Premier of the Western Midovelt and Lord of the skies.”  A crow announced his presence to the screeching court.

The din faded except for the screeching of the flying guards and the constant howl of the restless winds.

Dorin the lord of the crows, stepped to the tip of his ledge “I salute you lord Yivalis, we have a lot of pressing issues that warrant your attention tonight,”

He would rather be at the sea, catching fish.

“Proceed,”

“Thank you, my lord. First is the issue of the crows. Some of the lords believe that the increasing crow numbers in the west have become a heavy burden. They propose that we dispatch some of them to distant lands for reconnaissance missions or reduce the taxes they pay for their upkeep,”

The brazen audacity of some of these lords. How could they ask for reduced taxes and without any tact or guile?

“Which lords propose this?” Danin asked,

Dorin looked around “Lord Venthal of the vultures, the Igis dukes, Lord Hidel and Lord Miul of the ravens.”

He glanced at Lord Nimri who as usual was indifferent. You could always count on the owls to be so blasé.

Dorin tried his best to look unbothered but Danin could tell that the crow was raging. He had every reason to; the other lords were ganging up on him, threatened by his increasing dominance. Indeed Dorin waxed great in numbers. His crows now numbered well past a thousand. Like their master, they were sworn to serve the house of Yivalis.

“The crows enforce the law and order and protect the integrity of my borders. I will not reduce their taxes and I will send them on missions when I deem it necessary.”

“You rule with a stern hand, your father was more diplomatic,” Lord Venthal cawed, with a voice so shrill, it must have chafed the ice peaks.

Lord Venthal with a face so unpleasant, Danin was grateful the moon didn’t show up tonight. But he was a mighty lord of a great house, his vultures numbered well over a thousand. He should be the one reducing his forces.

“However, I like the idea of sending scouts out. Send your vultures deeper into the east. I noticed some lynx folk at my border recently. I need to know if something slithers around my talons.”

“The winter is close at hand. It is not the time to send my forces into the cold,”

“But you would send the crows? Let us revisit this issue again in the summer. Dorin,”

The lord of the crows looked pleased “Yes lord Yivalis, speaking of scouts, my crows bring news of spotting the white feathers of the house of Ranolis,”

“Where did you spot these feathers?”

“In a cave in the west, towards the desert lands” Dorin said.

“This should have been the first issue brought up tonight. You mean Lord Ranolis circles my lands?”

“Its just one sighting, it could be any one, a white raven or some other mal” Lord Hidel said.

Lord Zinki Ranolis, could easily be the highest level pretani in all of the regions. And he had a knack for showing up during the winter frost when food is rare.

 “We must hunt tonight; we shall comb the western borders to be sure,”

His court was silent. The lords seemed petulant which was acceptable. He only needed their compliance.

“Finally, Duke Buni wishes to take the caves in the Rushing steppes so that he can establish his house and his crows,”

Danin studied his cousin. The rushing steppes encroached further into his lands. He preferred Buni at the outskirts of his realm.

“What happened to your eyrie. It is grand and quaint and with enough space for hundreds of crows and rodies.”

“My eyrie is placed conveniently at the edge of your realms, cousin. I want to be closer to the forests,”

“If you desire the forest then go to the east, Midovelt is vast, you don’t have to remain here in the west,”

He looked around his court and hovered in the air.

“Assemble your forces now lords, let us go towards the desert” he said and flew up into the sky.

 

The great Avins darted off the mountain top. He watched them from several sareps above. Even from such a great distance, he could hear their terrible screeches as they lanced their way into the night. When he was an eaglet, a host such as this used to fill him with unease. He was acutely aware of their penchant for death. But now they were his blessing, his unruly hosts that he ruled over.

The storm was coming. It seemed like a truly turbulent one so he soared higher.  He looked below to see Azul gaining on him. But his crows were nowhere in sight. They could not fly this high and the night was too dark with no moonlight so they would remain grounded till the storm passed. The storm raged from the west so he would have to go around it. He went over Greenvale, over the dense canopy of trees and just by the edge of the storm. But he came to a jarring stop. A host of tiger owls blocked his path; about fifty, sixty or more, the silent assassins.

Even with Azul around, he was grossly outnumbered. They could see better than he could on a night like this and they were masters of the silent flight.

Azul came up beside him “we have to flee father, let us swiftly ascend to greater heights,”

“And give Hidel and Miul the satisfaction?” Danin flew towards the owls.

“Tonight the storm will spread your feathers around my borders and my crows will feast on your remains in the morning.”

“Lord Yivalis, your reign will end tonight.”

The Igis combat style relies on swift precise attacks with few pauses. The goal is to accurately predict the opponent so that a fight is over after the first strike.

“I saw your first strike when you faced the bob cats. You have activated twenty turns in your flight. When I face these dead owls, count the turns you can see in my flight,”

Danin spread his wings to full span. He counted sixty six Avins in his path. How arrogant of them to attack him from below, he had the swoop advantage. He lurched at them faster than a Sarpentine would strike, drawing his wings in to embrace his frame. The owls seemed transfixed from his view.

Even in a night dark as this, he could still see the faint thread of his attack range. He observed the ultraviolet ray dashing from one owl to another like a lone spider web. He could barely pick out their full frames under such low light but he saw glowing spots on their plumage from saliva droppings where they preened and cleaned their feathers.

In the dash he spinned, ten rotations. His talons sliced through owl flesh. Twenty rotations, he blitzed halfway through his attack range. He had to spin faster. Twenty five, thirty, thirty five, he streaked past the owls, zig sagging through their ranks. The spinning tilted him off balance and made him ricochet like a fuming bee, slicing through owl after owl. But he needed more; he was almost at the end of his range. Forty rotations, forty five, forty eight, forty nine.

He spread his wings at the edge of his range and still hurtled a sarep away, whistling like a lightning bolt.

The owls dropped from the air leaving a cloud of feathers. Danin warily looked around, hoping to spot any silent lurkers.

“Fifty two rotations, how did you do that?” Azul said.

“Practice”

“You turned fifty two times per second. What? How? I could barely count all the turns.”

The lords behind this attack knew that this is the path he would take to evade the storm. But it would take more than owl assassins and a stormy night to drop Yivalis Danin.

“It is not ideal, but I will not scout for Lord Ranolis with the lords tonight,”

Azul looked around, still tensed up.

“Shall we return to the eyrie?”

 “I have a rock hill here in Greenvale,” Danin screeched.

 The storm still raged on. The two Igis flew over the outskirts of Greenvale and flowed into a cave at the top of a lone rock hill that stabbed into the sky.

“Had I not seen you defeat these owls at night, I would have scarcely believed it,” Azul said as they perched on a ledge in the cave.

“Practice every day to add more turns to your spin. I aim to hit a hundred rotations per second. I imagine at that rate, my talons would slice through rocks.”

“You still train so hard?”

Danin stepped to the entrance of the cave “every chance I get.  Come, we’ll swoop down to the ground. Try to spin as much as you can,”

Azul came up beside him.

“The one dash leaves me drained. I am still recovering from my fight with the bob cat,”

“To choose exhaustion in this world, you must first choose death.”

The two Igis swooped down from the hill. For all his talk, he did not try to replicate the night’s feat. He just plummeted beside his son and watched him attempt the spin.

“Just twenty one turns” Azul said when they hovered over the ground.

“Good,”

“How will you deal with the lords for this brazen attempt on your life?”

“Well first, we have to survive the night,”

Azul paused, “its true then, we are surrounded.”

“You must trust your senses at all times,”

Azul strained to see better in the dark night, “but who are they,”

“Must be falcons, I thought I heard the distinct buzz of their rapid wings,”

“Falcons, they are too fast,”

Danin thumped his wings and rose into the air, “it is going to be a long night. We’ll be pelted but this rock hill is the perfect cover,”

“They won’t let us fly too high,” Azul said.

Just then a blue blur zipped down from the sky. Azul barely dodged it.

“Here they come,”

Their ferocious screeches filled the air.

The falcons swarmed the Igis lords from all directions. They moved rapidly like flies around a carcass. Danin clenched one talon against the wall of the rock hill, hanging off it like a bat. He picked at the swarm of Avins with his beak and swiped with his free talon. He moved his head with lightning speed, slicing off falcon wings. Falcons dropped at his strike in droves but the onslaught continued.

He soon realized that he was bleeding. He thumped his wings with vigour and bounced off the rock hill, aiming for greater altitude but some falcons stuck their beaks in his feathers, aiming to pull him down. He growled and flapped his great wings even harder and violently shook them off.  As they dived at him, he swiped at them and clamped and snapped any falcon’s neck he could pluck out of the dark night.

Streaks of blood and feathers filled the air but the barrage went on. He soon managed to fight his way up to the top of the cliff. He let out a violent screech and then dived down. He had marked several of them with his talons so he went for the strike.

He blitzed through their ranks, turning, fifteen, twenty, twenty five. Ripped up falcons dropped down into the deep darkness. But his body could not complete thirty turns before he crashed down to the ground.

The falcons screeched and rushed at him aiming to overwhelm him. He rested on his back watching the horde of Avins dive towards him. They were too fast and too many. Just then the storm arrived and blasted the warring Avins afar, scattering them across the vale. He managed to clasp on to a tree branch as the raging storm bellowed and flung off trees and did all it could to yank him off the tree and blast him off into the distant dark.

 

He must have gotten knocked out because when he opened his eyes, the dawn had cracked. He rose up and flapped his wings. His body burned from a thousand cuts. He looked around the valley to see the carcasses of dead Avins lying around.

Azul limped up to meet him. His right wing looked bruised up.

“You survived,” Danin said,

“I am pretty banged up but I can still fly,” Azul said and flapped his wings to lift off the field.

“The lords will rue this day,” Danin said.

 

Later in the morning, Danin and his mate, Urza listened to Azul regale Rinal with the exploits of the past night.

“You actually slew a bob cat.” Rinal said in awe.

“They’re much slower than I thought. The real challenge was facing the falcons. I thought I was going to die. I don’t know how I survived. They were everywhere, it was dreadful.”

“And here I was watching the storm from afar,” Rinal sighed.

“If you could hear the loud screeches of those Avins against the crazy howl of the storm, you would be sick. Be glad you missed it,”

Rinal did not look convinced but he said nothing.

Danin was here with his family at their second eyerie close to the ocean. It was the best way to calm his fretting mate. This place was free of the shielding embrace of the trees, just sareps of land and ocean. He could easily spot any intruder long before they could spot him.

A murder of crows approached from the distant horizon. The wind carried their caws long before their talons hit his branch step. Lord Dorin was among the horde. They hovered in front of his eyrie keeping the respectable distance for no Avin except an Igis was allowed into an Igis eyrie.

“My lord Yivalis, we saw the fields of Greenvale littered with dead falcons and came here when we could not find you at your place in the Rockies.”

“I want to fish. I have had a long and troublesome night,” Danin said.

“Of course my lord but what shall we do about last night?”

“What is there to do? I have faced death alone and the night is gone.”

Dorin flapped his wings “My lord?”

“Yes, my enemies assailed me while my forces hid from the storm.”   

 The crows were silent. They just hovered around.

Until Dorin found his voice “All you have to do is speak the command, my lord.”

“Then find out who dared to come for me. Find out who sent the falcons and the owls.”

 

The crows dispersed immediately. He watched them hurtle off into the distance, black specks in the grey space. He rose up from his bone couch, the skeletal torso of a fawn, and spread his wings.

“Let me wet my beak for a bit,” he said to Urza

Urza was restless. She paced around the chamber. “You should rest, regain your strength.”

“And I would by catching fish,” he lifted off into the air, rising out of the eyrie.

“Let me come with you,” Rinal said.

The eaglet was eager for some action. He had scarce grown his adult plumage having just seen four winters. Danin nodded and bound off into the sky with Rinal in tow. Azul looked away clearly having no stomach for hunting.

He felt invincible floating above the ocean. He was a sarep or two away from the vast expanse of shimmering blue. The sunlight danced on the glistening surface with shadow partners highlighting the curved horizon. He could spot the whitecaps and the dark figure of swimming schools of fish just below the surface. The air felt thin and crisp and the cool wind rushed past his feathers invigorating him.

Being this high above the earth, he usually felt distant and cut off but he noticed Rinal glide up to fly beside him.

“That Salmon isn’t paying any attention,” Rinal said

“My father once told me that there’s a fish for every eagle at the bottom of the ocean.”

“But we can’t get to the bottom of the ocean”

“Yes that’s what I said. So he said, you can if you drown.”

Rinal screeched and screeched “I am not going to drown. I can clearly see my path. I will swoop down at an angle and pick it up…”

“And then fly off in mid swoop with your talons in the salmon?” Danin said

“Yes, just like that.” Rinal said.

“Many eagles have their fish at the bottom of the ocean. You won’t be the first, if you stab the fish but can’t take off.”

Rinal looked puzzled “I would take off, my wings are powerful enough. I will show you.”

“Okay, show me,” Danin said.

 

Rinal ascended higher and circled around, one two, three times. He was going for the salmon. It lagged behind its school, clearly occupied with thoughts of silent bubbles and bright holes. It looked young, its scales would be easy enough for Rinal to pierce.

Rinal whistled down at a slight arc, accelerating towards the ocean. The waves thrashed around him as he swooped down with wings stretched up. He dipped his talons into the ocean at the last moment and picked the fish up. Danin watched his son’s talon clasp around the fish. But the salmon showed great wiri. The sharp grip from Rinal’s talons snapped it from its mental frolics. It trashed about with vigour and fought hard to break free from Rinal’s grip. Its dilating movements looked beautiful to watch, such fluid form, slippery and firm at the same time until finally it slipped out from Rinal’ grasp to fall back towards the ocean.

Rinal dived back towards it and repeatedly clutched at it in flight but it kept dancing out of his grasp. The ocean loomed closer. The eaglet was so focused on catching the fish, he paid no attention to the ocean, surely he would fall in at a wrong angle. Danin flapped his wings. Was he watching a profound moment? A final moment? What was about to unfold before his eyes that he had not seen coming? Rinal.

Rinal somersaulted and pinched the salmon just as the edge of his wing sliced the ocean. And then he bound off into the sky and up towards Danin.

“This salmon is more troublesome than I expected.” Rinal said crooking his beak to show his displeasure.

The salmon pleaded in the dance tone of the aquamals, a sign language of communicating with dance moves. “o avins, I have not discovered the pristine bubble. Killing me would be a waste”

“Yea, he talks a lot. I can’t wait to kill him.” Rinal said.

“The pristine bubble can bridge the greatest distances within one blip. It can merge the boundaries between land and water.” The salmon continued its entreaties.

“And if the boundaries are merged, what would remain? Land or water?” Danin asked.

The salmon was still.

“You don’t have an answer to that yea and we don’t care about your pristine bubble. I think the land should remain where it is and the ocean also.” Rinal said.

“Yea, its easier that way. Let us alight over there.” Danin said and swooped towards a cluster of brambles. Rinal hovered close to him and dumped the salmon on the ground.

Just then Dorin and a murder of about fifty crows dropped down from the sky.

“We have done as you asked, Lord Danin.” Dorin said.

“You have my attention,”

“The raven lords, Hidel and Miul, convinced the owls that the crows are becoming a threat. So they sent their assassins after you.” Dorin said.

“I thought so too. And the falcons?”

Just then Regilus, his harpy neighbour alighted on the ground in the midst of the gathering.

A true giant of an avin. He towered over Danin.

“Lord Danin, you grace the ocean with your presence.”

“You look robust, hunting must be thrilling as usual,” Danin said.

“The days have been good. Do you plan to spend the winter here?” Regilus asked.

He was ever so abrasive.

“No I will return to the rockies,  I much prefer the rockies when it is winter.”

He was lax here because the dealings with the harpies go way back to the days of his father. He had to share the land here and be more discrete with his hunting.

“Its great to see you come around once in a while. Please enjoy your stay,” The harpie said and took flight.

Danin turned back to his crows “and the falcons?”

“They were sent by someone in Leones city.” Dorin said.

“What do I have to do with Leones city?”

“The bob cats that your son slew are related to a duke in Leones, one of the lesser lords in the city.”

“I know what a leones duke is.” Danin said.

He glanced at Rinal who was in the act of gobbling up the salmon.

“I need to learn more about this duke. And have Hidel and Miul executed for their treachery. Do not spare anyone that shows support for them.”

The crows streaked off into the sky.

“Are we finally about to go smash some ravens?” Rinal asked.

“Don’t get too excited,” Danin said and thumped his wings.

Rinal thumped up too “okay where are we going then?”

“Well I want to have have a chat with the ravens”

“And we are going alone, without the crows?” Rinal asked as they hurtled through the sky.

He glanced at his eyrie which was a small speck on the floor. “It’s just a chat.”

The raven hills didn’t have much tree cover. They were too high up. But they could easily spot any one approaching from great sareps away. Danin circled above, considering a vantage spot to land.

At the sight of him in the sky, the quiet hills burst into a flurry of ravens fleeting about to their various cloves. A company of guards rushed up towards the Igis.

“Lord Yivalis, welcome to our humble hills” Girin Gole said.

Girin Gole was highly acclaimed for his knot tying and had amassed lots of riverstones. Danin suspected that the raven probably possessed even more riverstones than him.

“Its no more humble than the land and the ocean below.” Danin said

Girin Gole blinked his eyes and inclined his head so that his beak did not point directly at the Igis lord.

“Let me show you to our chatting lance.” He said.

Danin flew down with Rinal in the endless stream of ravens. They covered the sky and formed a tunnel around the Igis lord as they streamed through the air, down into the hills to perch on a severe rock dashing above a great deep and dark crevice.

Ravens swarmed around the Chatting Lance. Everyone was curious to know what Yivalis wanted. He looked around pleased to see that Hidel and Miul were absent.

“Where have your lords gone?” he asked.

“An army of your crows are at this moment inside the lords quarters. And they have our lords with them” Girin Gole said.

“Are they now? Why take me to the Chatting Lance and not to your lords?”

“I was hoping that you would be willing to have a chat.” Girin Gole said.

“Lord Yivalis, your rage is understandable. But would you truly war with us all?” A raven of the lower council said.

“I am not at war. I’m just here to punish insubordination.” Danin said.

“You don’t care about our plights” another raven said.

“Is that why you sneaked on me in the dark of the night under the cover of the storm?”

The ravens starting to caw and screech. Danin watched them for a while. Just then some of his crows alighted on the rock.

“Bring the lords to me,” Danin said.

The crows whistled to their cronies.