…

  Talenkor stood tall, an imposing mass of stone formed into a pyramid. Flourishes of gold touched the stone in tribal patterns. Two muscular guards stood at the base of large stone stairs, spears pointed to the sky.

  “You may pass, Daekhota of the Sorakum-kora,” said the soldier to the left.

  Daekhota gave the man a nod and began his long climb. With each step, he felt the weight of the structure’s importance. The burn of his muscles. The sweat on his back.

  Trees surrounded the square of Talenkor, a vast forest that stretched for miles from the coast to the furthest reaches of the land. Maa Ilam, the living sea of wood. At the start of his climb, he saw only the trunks of the trees, and then their tops. By the time he reached the top of the structure, he was able to see how the sea of trees stretched into the distance – the forest undulating with the hidden landscape below.

  He took a moment to rest, beads of sweat running down his back and chest. The view was beautiful. It was somehow more pleasing to see from this vantage point than from the back of a drake. Daekhota felt that he could almost have stretched out his arms and dived into the emerald vastness of the Maa Ilam.

  But he was here for a reason. The Council had summoned him. This business of the Foreigner had grown in priority since Lornek had brought news of the white man to the heart of the government.

  Deakhota walked up to and through the tall opening of the Talenkor. Inside, the air was cool and still. The sounds of the birds, the wind, and crashing waves of the sea – sounds that he had barely registered until now – were hushed by the walls of the structure.

  Another pair of soldiers awaited him inside. Instead of spears, the men bore curved ceremonial swords held by leather straps to their waists. “Welcome to Talenkor, Daekhota. The council awaits your presence. Follow me.”

  He was led through the dark structure. Oil lamps lit the stone hallways. He was whisked into the depths of the Talenkor, winding deeper inside the building. They emerged from the gloom of the hallways into a grand chamber filled with sunlight. Rays of light beamed from high above, cutting through the layers of air like a knife of white.

  “Daekhota of the Sorakum-kora,” a voice boomed from raised seats made of wood sourced from Maa Ilam. “Step forward.”

  He marched across the stone floor, halting before the Council. He bowed, awaiting his release.

  “Rise,” said a woman’s voice, touched by age.

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  “We have heard news of your encounter with the Foreigner. We understand from Lornek that you have been charged with teaching him our language and our ways,” said the same booming voice. Chief Anasanaken leaned forward. “Do you think this wise?”

  “My Chief, I see no reason why the Foreigner may be a danger to us. I believe that his craft crashed here, that he did not intend to land here.” Daekhota sighed. “I feel that he is stranded here.”

  “You speak of the Maa Soram Nahum, the eye,” said Anasanaken.

  “We know nothing may pass it,” said Daekhota. “None of the Sorakum-kor who have tried have returned.”

  “This craft of his,” said Anasanaken, “perhaps it is capable of something drakes cannot.”

  Daekhota shook his head. “When I witnessed it flying, I saw nothing to suggest it was capable of great feats of flight. It was merely carried in the wind.”

  “And yet,” said Anasanaken, “it was capable of making it to our shores. Passing, as you suggest, through the Maa Soram Nahum.”

  “With all hands lost and crashing, my Chief.”

  Anasanaken sat back, chewing on the thought. “We fear that this may be a ploy from the north. A trick. Perhaps they send their spies now in the form of these white devils.”

  “My Chief, the craft, the artefacts within are like nothing we have seen from Jareshem. Everything points to the Foreigner being of an unknown culture to us.” Daekhota clasped his hands. “My Chief… if I were in his place, I would be looking for help. A fish from another sea. There may be much we can learn from him, just as he may learn of us.”

  Anasanaken sighed. “If you are right, this knowledge may be of great value to us in our fight against the lost tribe. It is a gamble, on one hand we may gain great insights we may use to our advantage. On the other, he may be a spy or worse, the first wave of an invasion force from beyond the Maa Soram Nahum.”

  Daekhota took a step forward. “Perhaps are a lost tribe we never knew existed.”

  Anasanaken furrowed his brow. “Go on.”

  “Is it not spoken in our legends that there were many tribes who set forth into the world? The Tol Ura-en.”

  “And it is spoken–” said the elderly woman’s voice. She sat forward into the light. “--that all tribes were lost but Jareshem.”

  “Until now,” said Daekhota. “The Foreigner may be proof of that.”

  “I fear that we must gamble,” said Anasanakem. “Only time may tell what outcome lies ahead. You may proceed with teaching the Foreigner. But if there is even a single sign–”

  “I will kill the Foreigner myself,” Daekhota interrupted.

  Anasanakem sighed. “Very well. But remember, Daekhota of the Sorakum-kor, the fate of all the Maa Tol may be in your hands.”

  Daekhota bowed forward. “As always, I serve the Maa Tol.”

  “Go now, and ensure you report the Foreigners progress each day.” Anasanaken gave a flourish of his hand.

  Daekhota gave another bow and retreated from the chamber.

  …

  The heat of the day hit his face as he exited Talenkor. Daekhota took a moment to look over the expanse of the Maa Ilam. Leaves waved, a cascade of movement that carried across the forest, like the undulations of the sea. Birds took flight, with slow beats of their wings. He watched them as they climbed into the sky. The sight had him feel a sense of nostalgia. He knew what they felt, what they saw.

  Daekhota made his long climb down the steps of the Talenkor. His legs were already weary from his ascendent, but descending strained his thighs even harder. The long stairs gave him a sense of vertigo, and the strange feeling that it was almost certain that he would fall.

  He stopped and caught his breath, allowing himself to settle his balance. He continued when he felt ready.

  He reached the bottom and wiped sweat from his brow.

  “Go with care, Daekhota of the Shorakum-kora,” spoke the same soldier who had granted him access to the Talenkor.

  “And you,” Daekhota replied, before setting off in the direction of the drake stables.

  He marched across the square and the hustle and bustle of Tolilam, the sprawling city nation he called home. His sandals crunched over the dirt road as he danced through the crowds of traders and cityfolk.

  The stables were not far. He made it there in around ten minutes. The hospital, where the Foreigner was being kept while his wounds healed, was but a little further.

  He found Liana in her stables. The drake groan when she saw him, shifting her head towards him. Daekhota reached out and stroked her snout. Deep rumbles vibrated his chest as she purred.

  “Come on, girl, it’s time to stretch our wings.” He opened the stable door. Liana vibrated with excitement before she walked on her four legs, talons tapping at the wooden floor. He grabbed her harness and saddle as she walked outside.

  He slid the reins over head, leather straps criss-crossing over her scales. An amber eye watched him as he worked, the drake purring all the while. Daekhota set the saddle and clipped the straps around her belly. “Alright, Liana. Let’s ride.”

  The rider hopped into the saddle and grabbed the reigns. The drake stood excitedly and stretched her wings even before he had a chance to command her into the sky.

  Liana leapt into the air, wings beating like the drums of the undead of the underworld. He pulled down his ivory flying goggles. He saw the world through slits cut into them, protecting his eyes from the sun and the wind.

  He pulled to the right, sending the drake soaring across the city. Liana let out a roar, announcing her presence to anyone who would listen to her.

  Daekhota’s heart skipped.