“You summoned me!” pants Mlinzi as he runs into the throne room.

Upendo smiles and beckons Mlinzi toward him as he says, “Brother, it has been a while since you’ve seen Mahana hasn’t it?”

Mlinzi blushes and looks around as if paranoid, “I uhhh… my liege I thought we agreed that we were to keep our blood brotherhood secret especially now that the succession crisis has been averted.”

“There is no need to act so formal amongst family,” scoffs Upendo chuckling at his captain’s nervous reaction, “considering that we are about to go on a small vacation together, in honor of the fact that someone is about to receive a promotion.”

“I’m honored,” says Mlinzi bowing to Upendo’s annoyance, “what do you wish of me, and it’ll be done.”

Upendo raises his large hand and says, “you are to become an ambassador between the people of Tackenae and the Claw Wing Alliance. Afterall, it was thanks to you that the Claw Wing Alliance came into existence, so there is no better candidate for this promotion.”

Mlinzi raises his body in a start as he looks at me then back at Upendo, “I’m a glorified babysitter aren’t I.”

“No, I wouldn’t say that, consider this an opportunity to see the sweet tailfeathers of the glirdon that’s caught your eye more often,” goads Upendo clearly abusing his rank and relationship with his brother and captain to irk Mlinzi.

Mlinzi lets out a frustrated groan and salutes Upendo, “as you will it, brother.”

“I knew you’d see things my way,” says Upendo with a large, fanged grin.

Upendo then turns to me and says, “you didn’t think I’d have you wandering lost and alone in Tackenae did you?”

“He really is going to be my babysitter, then,” I say reveling in the galled expression Mlinzi is making as his lip quivers in obvious annoyance.

“Perhaps I misspoke. I prefer the word guide! yes guide... at least afford me some of my pride,” growls Mlinzi as he walks past Ashe and Cran to then clap his hands to summon a servant who places a wooden stool next to my stool and Upendo’s throne that he sits upon.

Upendo stands up and I follow his example as he says, “why are you sitting down we have places to be, and your duty as ‘guide’ commences now. We must present Skath to our allies and convince them to trust him as I trust him.”

Mlinzi gets up off of the stool he barely had the chance to rest upon and shakes his head, “and imposing on the glirdon without warning is our way of garnering their good graces? Shouldn’t we at least send word, so they have time to prepare a bonfire feast if they wish to indulge us with said tradition.”

“You are most right, and I almost forgot,” says Upendo clapping his hands, and a servant girl pops her head up from the hidden hatch beside the glowing crystal pillar, “Send word to Pramuk that we are going to feast! Go and raid my larders and send a bounteous gift to the summit. That should be more than sufficient to cover any insult for our sudden rude imposition.”

“Pramuk isn’t who I’m worried about, nor does he have station to make him worthy of worry,” responds Mlinzi still shaking his head with his large, pointed, batlike ears pointed backward. My attention is split between Mlinzi’s rebuttals to the king, as I can’t help but watch the servant dive back down into the covered tunnel hidden by the glowing pillar.

Upendo once again claps his hands and the same servant that poked her head out from the hidden hatch before pokes her head out once again a little exasperated that she couldn’t even get a few steps into her first task and is already being summoned again, “you are absolutely right! I forgot the most important people we must be sure to please! Mjakazi I need you to find my best barrels of mushroom wine and send those as a personal gift to Hawa and Shwala?”

Mjakazi the servant bows to Upendo and immediately dives back into the tunnel the hidden hatch shrouds behind the crystal pillar to complete her tasks even faster than she dove the first time.

“Skath doesn’t even know the customs of the glirdon, what happens if he accidentally insults them, or worse finds himself pressured into one of their accursed arranged political marriages,” says Mlinzi shuddering as Upendo and Mlinzi begin to walk toward the back wall of the throne room that Upendo had indicated was special in our prior conversation.

“They only attempted to get you married off because you drunkenly announced that we were brothers. With that information the glirdon highest court wanted to get you married to put one of their own on the Western Mountain Hall’s throne,” responds Upendo clapping his hands and the wall behind the throne room shuddered and began to split in two. I then started to realize that specific sequences and sounds of the claps were different and communicated different actions to the servants that surrounded Upendo, as the clap to split the wall behind his throne was distinct to the clap he used to summon Mjakazi.

“Well, if the highest court would offer me Mahana’s hand in marriage then maybe they could have a chance at what they wanted. Mahana would make a beautiful queen,” pouts Mlinzi as both he and Upendo continue to walk forward toward the wall that is opening itself up before us to reveal the entrance of a tunnel.

Upendo throws his head back in exasperation as he enters the secret tunnel with Mlinzi, “We both know that Mahana is basically married to her job, and the highest court aren’t apt to give her up either. Mahana is a one-woman slaver destroying army.”

“Maybe one day she’ll want to settle down. Patience grows the mushrooms as they say,” mutters Mlinzi with an odd sincerity, but as if realizing that he’d abandoned the game of words with Upendo he then tries to add a boisterous energy lacking in his comment by throwing his arms out to his sides as he walks with Upendo down the newly revealed tunnel.

“You forget that the saying is supposed to be sew the mold and let patience and nurture make the shrooms grow,” rebuts Upendo as he begins to fade from view in the secret tunnel with Mlinzi. I’m guessing that I’m meant to follow the bickering friends, so I wave to Ashe and Cran to follow me and we enter the cave behind Upendo and Mlinzi.

We walk down the secret tunnel housed in the wall behind Upendo’s throne as Upendo and Mlinzi continue to badger one another for some distance until the tunnel reveals where it exits. As each of us exit the secret tunnel into what it unveils the reactions are all different. Upendo and Mlinzi bow their heads in solemn reverence and respect, Ashe’s eyes grow large as her head jumps upward and downward, and Cran remains still as he floats next to me perceiving all that I do. I stand in awe as I look upon an enormous chamber the size of the very mountain we find ourselves inside, that houses a collum of rainbow-colored crystal that is carved and painted with all manner of pictographs or hieroglyphs similar to the style of imagery found on the various tapestries in Upendo’s throne room.

Where we currently stand is one of many platforms that are connected by a spiraling staircase that ascends the walls of this chamber. Each of the platforms has guards stationed at a brazier constructed with a specially designed mirror that reflects the light of the flames onto the crystal pillar to make sure each section of the pillar is illuminated. I look down off of the platform we stand upon and I see various construction and digging crews, as well as several artists adding pictographs to the enormous and colorful pillar that is being continuously excavated.

Looking at the spiraling staircase I also see several teratolion that appear to be painting and carving artistic additions to the walls of this immense chamber. It seems that this place isn’t exclusive to royalty, but the common folk as well. I turn around and upon the wall are handprints of various sizes with images carved into the palms of each print that act as a sort of signature or indication of occupation or even just a shout of existence. Amidst the handprints are other pictographs that tell simple stories or show events that were important to the teratolion that left them here. Mushrooms, bugs, moss surprisingly, and depictions of smithing and metallurgy are all painted upon these walls. As my eyes continue their journey up the stairs, I see a teratolion woman with a paintbrush touching up the various pictures that litter these walls as if giving new life to what I assume are the voices of the past.

“Welcome to the Western Mountain Hall’s holy of holies,” says Upendo as he claps his hands and bows before the crystalline column, “this is where all the souls of my people find immortality on this mortal plane and share their wisdom from beyond the halls of rest.”

Upendo’s words confirm some of my suspicions. This is the historical records of the teratolion people. Though not shared in written words the glyphs left behind act as a visual record of teratolion history and given the pictures on the tapestries sharing a similarity to the carved paintings on the pilar, the pilar must house the royal histories and might also have some level of standardization in artistry that appears to be lacking on the walls of this chamber which must be reserved for the peasantry. I look below again, and I see a teratolion artisan looking at a tapestry that surprisingly depicts what I think is me saving Uzuri as a reference for his carving as he replicates the tapestries contents onto the humongous rainbow crystal, which adds evidence to my developing theories of this monument in the mountain.

“Congratulations Skath on becoming immortalized upon the Crystal Record as only the lives of kings and very few gods make it upon its surface. That tapestry that depicts you and Uzuri that artisan is using as reference will be stored with a corresponding scroll containing a written telling of your story in our libraries and both these containers of history will be studied by our storytellers to inspire future generations. Our storytellers and the Crystal Record used to be our only method of passing our history from one generation to the next, but thankfully due to Sahaulifu the forgetful inspiring Andishi the Letter Smith we have seen our people’s story fade less and only grow stronger,” explains Upendo pointing to the teratolion carver and painter that I was staring at, “Even though our tradition of storytelling isn’t necessary as our sole method of history preservation anymore, the tradition survives as now storytellers serve as entertainers that memorize and reinterpret the histories stored in our libraries and upon the Crstal Record itself.”

I hear a creaking noise, and my eyes becoming distracted from the grandeur all around me acknowledge something a bit more mundane in this chamber. Several metal ropes move in unison and eventually lift up a large basket in front of the stone platform that we all are standing on. Upendo steps into the basket, Mlinzi walks confidently forward, Cran floats beside Mlinzi without fear, and Ashe and I tentatively check to see if the basket will hold our weight and then get in with the rest of our group. The guard stationed at the brazier and mirror closest to us seeing that we were all securely inside the basket moves the mirror he is responsible for to signal another guard, who signals another guard, who signals another guard, until I guess all the guards who needed to be signaled reached whoever was responsible for moving the basket, as the basket started moving upward.

Years of teratolion history flash before my eyes, and I try my best to interpret the glyphs as we rise, but without context I can’t really put together a story until we rise enough for me to see something, or rather someone I recognize. I see a man holding a bifurcated sword wearing a wide brimmed hat riding upon a feline steed leading his people to their deaths. I see this same man kill several of what I assume to be his own kind. I see this man watch as his mother burns at the stake.

We rise higher and higher and once we are close to the tip of the crystal familiarity strikes my eyes and mind again. I see another man with one eye and a lab coat emerge in the glyphs and I see this man lead mankind to war with the celandil; the totalion, glirdon, dracaquan, and teratolion at his side. I eventually see this man in what appears to be a laboratory create the totalion, and then I see him struggle to convince mankind to fight with the help of the teratolion, glirdon, and dracaquan. I then see this man create the glirdon, dracaquan, and teratolion. The creation of the glirdon, dracaquan, and teratolion is depicted in sequential detail as they start as fully developed versions of themselves, to prototypes, to human children, and at the tip of the crystal monument is a depiction of a fetus in the hands of the man who I know is my grandfather. The hands of my grandfather were inscribed with a picture of a sun and moon and on the fetus’s chest the two symbols on my grandfather’s hands are combined into a symbol representing an eclipse. On this crystal pillar is a historical record of the existence of my grandfather’s essence reservoir Eolas and Eagna, which are now dust in the wind.

We eventually rise through the ceiling of the chamber ascending into a vertical shaft with walls of stone. Eventually we arrive at a small cave that has a wooden door covering its exit. We all step out of the basket, and it stays in place as if to ensure that the king and his guests won’t accidentally fall down the hole it is currently covering. I watch as Upendo and Mlinzi approach a wall that has many rods that have several headbands tied to them. Upendo and Mlinzi tie the headbands around their heads to add a secondary covering to their eyes. Once the king and Mlinzi are ready, Mlinzi opens the door to let a jarring amount of bright light into the small cave. I flinch as I’m temporarily blinded by the light, but eventually my eyes adjust to the natural light of the sun.

We all exit the cave, and I find myself overwhelmed with emotions. I’m free of the obsidian pit. For the first time in my life, I’m no longer surrounded by walls. I fall to my knees as I stare at the somewhat barren landscape of stone and sparse plant life with bewilderment. Every direction I look in I know I can somehow walk, hike, climb, actually visit unimpeded by the treacherous walls that have forever plagued my vision. No longer will I have to stare at the sky and dream, but now I can see and go anywhere.

“Skath, you alright?” asks Ashe waving her hand in front of my face, but I don’t have the mind to react. Ashe then takes Cran into her hand against his will and smacks me on the head but I’m so enthralled that the pain and sudden shock doesn’t fully pull me back to be with my friends.

I look up to Ashe and wonder how she isn’t just as overcome as I am, only to see her eyes filled with tears and the most genuine of smiles on her face. We’ve both made it beyond the goddess’s navel and now forge destinies that aren’t linked to the religion that had taken so much from us. We are free. Free? She is free…

I get back up to my feet and the spectacular endless view now cripples my amazement. In all directions my vision continues near perpetually, which means that the world is so much larger than the hole in the mountains that I once begrudgingly called home. I remember my grandfather showing me the entire world of Nuren and how small I felt, and now that I’m seeing it outside of my mind’s eyes the smallness and futility of my existence is again pressed upon me.

Ashe places a hand on my shoulder, and this action unlike the smack to the head brings me out of my mind. Mlinzi slaps my back with his enormous hand giving a halfhearted chuckle, and Upendo points to the tall peak of the mountain range we stand upon as he says, “we still have a hike in front of us to get to the embassy house. Do try to keep up, as I am quite the hiker.”

Upendo downplayed the distance we had to travel, as we spent the rest of our day walking a rocky trail. Upendo’s stamina was surprising and defied his age and hefty build as he walked confidently as the leader of our intrepid band. Ashe was fairly confident in her hiking ability to begin with, but eventually she ended up clinging onto Cran who sort of dragged her along some distance behind Upendo, Mlinzi, and I. Mlinzi on the other hand, he didn’t really speak during our journey, in fact with every step a notable anxiety radiated off of him, drawing out a hissing laugh out of Upendo each time he looked back to check on his companions.

Sunset colors the sky with vibrance and we still hike until the last rays of the day disappear behind the infinite horizon. Though I’d expect Upendo and Mlinzi to make camp, we do not stop as darkness consumes the world. In fact, Upendo and Mlinzi take off their head bands and pick up the pace now that the world is now free of the enemy of their eyes. I shift my eyes to essence vision to be able to see more clearly in the dark, which to Ashe’s dismay she has nothing but Cran to help her continue her death march as she trips and stubs her toes behind us.

Finally, Upendo holds up a fist in the air. We’ve arrived! A wooden door bathed in moonlight covers the entrance to a cave that is our salvation from our trek. Mlinzi opens the door to the cave for Upendo, and Upendo enters the embassy house. The embassy somehow is abuzz with activity as servants are already in the house preparing a meal and beds for Upendo and his companions.

I look to Mlinzi for an explanation for how it appears that several servants beat us in our journey to the embassy, and Mlinzi responds, “we took the long way. Upendo has a passion for hiking, so if he has to take the short or long route to the summit, he’ll nearly always take the long.”

“Martog’s Maw, we took the long way,” says Ashe exasperatedly as she exhaustedly rides on Cran who had transformed into a wooden boar to act as her steed, “all this time we could have taken a shortcut?”

“We’re on vacation, so we took the route with the freshest air, most pleasant views, and had the nicest of pleasurable exercise,” says Mlinzi enjoying Ashe’s apparent discomfort and shock.

Ashe groans as Cran carries her inside the embassy, “there is exercise, but that wasn’t exercise. You were trying to torture me because I’m a human weren’t you.”

Mlinzi chuckles to himself and then looks to me to see if I’d be joining Upendo and Ashe inside. I look inside the cozy embassy house, but a part of me doesn’t want to go in there. It’s a little too closed off, and I shake my head in response to Mlinzi’s questioning stares. Mlinzi awkwardly snaps his fingers due to his claws to summon a servant, says something to the servant in the teratolion tongue, and the servant immediately obeys whatever Mlinzi told him. Now that I think about it, the only servants in the embassy are men, which down in the Mountain Halls the ratio of men and women in service to Upendo was generally even. The man servant returns with a bottle and two chalices that he hands over to Mlinzi with a shallow bow to both him and me. Mlinzi returns this courtesy with a shallow bow in response and then turns to me, “come. Follow me.”

I follow Mlinzi shifting my eyes to essence vision to better see in the dark. We walk a short distance in the dark until we find a stone table and two chairs set up on a cliff overlooking a thicket that has a meadow situated within it. Mlinzi places the chalices on the stone table and takes a seat, and I join him at the table. Mlinzi then pours wine into the two chalices and says, “I know that you have a particular liking to our liquor.”

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“I wouldn’t say that,” I say frowning as I remember the raucous bachelor party where I attempted to drink my problems away.

Mlinzi gives me an understanding glance and then takes a long swig from his chalice, “liquid courage… I should be drinking this tomorrow and not today, but sometimes you need a bit of courage to confront the thoughts of the night.”

“What would strike fear in the heart of the captain of the guard. Your hands are covered in daggers, and your body is nearly all-powerful muscle. If anything, you strike fear into the night not the other way around,” I say taking my chalice into my hands. I swirl its darkly colored contents to entertain my mind and chase away the familiar dangers that Mlinzi just posed.

“What would strike fear in the heart of a god that he would turn to alcohol’s courage?” responds Mlinzi and with that being said I chug the chalice of mushroom wine. He’s seen right through me, but that would mean that he too drinks for similar reasons that I drank the night away before I saw the love of my life leave in the arms of another. Mlinzi refills my drink with a knowing smile and continues his vigil watching over the meadow below.

The meadow lights up as a procession of… they aren’t human but for lack of a better word I’ll just say hooded people walks forward into the clearing. The group of people have long feathered fins upon their triceps that stretch above their heads. I’d want to call those fins wings, but those feathered appendages aren’t bird like in the least. My grandfather once showed me an animal that helped in the celandil discovery of electricity which he called a stingray, and that is probably the best description I have for the fin these creatures have upon their arm; a stingray wing but covered with feathers and possessing what I assume is a bone structure. Though the main fin is what attracts my attention first, I notice that these people also have a secondary and tertiary set of feathered fins upon their thighs stretching downward and upon the tip of a long almost simian looking feathered tail that stretches out of where their hips connect with their spine. Seeing the three sets of crescent shaped fins immediately sparks a memory, as my father would point to the sky and identify odd shadows that looked like three dark crescent moons flying through the air like a kite and call them glirdon.

The glirdon people call out using whistles and a second group of glirdon step into the clearing. The second group of glirdon do not wear the same clothing as the first procession. The first procession wear cloth cloaks and hoods, and the second procession wears clothes that look like ponchos constructed of the same feathers that the glirdon sports on their arms legs, tails, and even heads. The non-hooded glirdon instead of hair upon their heads grow feathers, and surprisingly also grow feathers from another trio of smaller fins upon their faces. This trio of fins extends out from their noses to form a crest that stretches to the top of their head and to the extremes of their cheek bones. The feathery clothes also reveal something else that the cloaked glirdon’s clothes do not. The cloaked glirdon appear to be hunch backed, but the hunch isn’t a hunch, as the feathery ponchos reveal that the glirdon have four bonelike structures that poke out of their backs.

“Those are glirdon aren’t they?” I say, my eyes not deviating from the clearing.

Mlinzi grunts to confirm as he too is staring intently on the meadow, but with a fiercer intensity than I.

One of the cloaked glirdon removes her hood revealing a feminine face with long purple, green, and blue feathers gracing her head and fins. I hear Mlinzi awkwardly knock over his chalice when he sees this beautiful glirdon, but my own curiosity in analyzing and learning more about the glirdon distract me from my companion. I notice that nearly all the glirdon in this clearing are women. In examining the glirdon I see that all the women in the clearing possess the imposing build and height that is similar to that of my mother, and the men of the glirdon are smaller in build so much so that they are nearly half the size of their female counterparts. I look at the two groups and note that there is only a single man amongst the group clothed in feathery ponchos, whereas the other group appears to have more men with them given that there are several smaller glirdon in cloaks amidst their numbers, but the short glirdon are still in the minority.

The enchanting glirdon with purple feathers whistles to the poncho wearing glirdon and they whistle back. Another group of cloaked people approach the clearing, though this group isn’t like the first. This group of cloaked people look human as they lack the fins and tails that the first cloaked group possesses. Though, I can still identify them as glirdon as many of the second group of cloaked glirdon have long feathers poking out of their hoods instead of hair.

A mournful whistling calls forth from the sole small male glirdon that is amidst the poncho wearing glirdon, and with that whistle the women of the feather poncho wearing glirdon approach the cloaked glirdon brandishing ponchos in their arms which they distribute to the cloaked glirdon. The cloaked glirdon remove their cloaks and I see that many of these glirdon have backs laden with scars. The secondary group of the cloaked glirdon when they remove their cloaks reveal scars on their arms, legs, and face where it looks like their fins and tails were forcefully removed, and the bones that protrude on their backs appear to have been sawn off and filed down to be even with their skin. Though, many of the second group possess prominent scarring there are a few that possess nearly invisible scars despite the apparent mutilation of their bodies. Some of the second group of glirdon almost look entirely human, as if the fins had been expertly removed and I’d bet with some makeup and a wig might even fool humans into believing that these glirdon are not glirdon at all.

The cloaked glirdon swiftly put on their new clothes and cast their cloaks into the center of the clearing where one of the poncho wearing glirdon using one of their torches lights the cloaks ablaze. Seeing the cloaks turn to ash many of the once cloaked glirdon cheer, and I hear Mlinzi translate the whistling language of the glirdon as he sings, “free at last, free at last, by the guiding winds of the ancestors that guide us, we are free at last.”

The whistling stops and the glirdon begin to sing with their voices, but their voices aren’t necessarily confined to the range of humanity. The glirdon modulate their voices in ways that they sound like various instruments combining into a symphony of sounds that harmonize into glorious music. My grandfather teaching me about the physics of sound waves let me listen to celandilic music and the glirdon in their singing almost replicate and add their own touch to music I once thought was long gone. The villagers of Unadeam sort of sing in a monotone in beat to a drum, depending on the words and their meaning to add significance to the music and chants they sing, which almost led me to believe that the music of the past was long dead. However, the glirdon betray my previous conclusions. The world is a vast place, and the short time I’ve explored it reveals that Unadeam really was just a small hole in the mountains.

“The glirdon have three languages,” explains Mlinzi as he listens to the singing in the meadow, “this is the sacred language, used in times of celebration, worship, and expressing the emotions of the soul. Then there is the public language that you heard that consists of whistles. The last language is the private language that is similar to how humans and teratolion speak. Whistles are difficult to keep quiet, so they are used to communicate in public forums and across distances. Whereas the spoken word is the more common tongue, as it is more intimate and meant to be spoken person to person and in smaller groups.”

“They don’t shout?” I ask as that’s how humans communicate their spoken tongue in situations where I assume the glirdon would consider appropriate for their public language.

“Shouting is considered too close to their sacred language to be considered appropriate to be used for the mundane,” says Mlinzi picking up the bottle of wine to refill both his and my chalice once more. Mlinzi downs another chalice of mushroom wine, refills his chalice, and continues to stare intently into the clearing, his eyes not deviating from one glirdon. He stares at the glirdon woman with purple feathers who seems the apparent leader of the once cloaked glirdon, however, unlike her fellows she continues to wear the cloak instead of the feathered ponchos now worn by every glirdon in the meadow.

Noticing his devoted focus and putting together some context from Upendo’s teasing and the selective words Mlinzi has used in our own conversation I ask, “is that Mahana?”

Mlinzi breaks eye contact with the purple feathered glirdon and stares at me, and I’m guessing that I assumed correctly. Mlinzi nods and looks away clearly embarrassed, but what embarrassment he feels is drowned out by his desire to look upon the woman he clearly fancies.

“Yes, that woman there is Mahana,” responds Mlinzi with longing in his voice, “that is the woman that I wish to one day be my wife, and it is because of her that our peoples now speak peace and not war.”

“Wait, I thought Upendo gave you credit for creating the Claw Wing Alliance,” I ask remembering hearing that detail when Upendo promoted Mlinzi to be my babysitter, I mean guide.

Mlinzi takes a deep breath, his eyes still not leaving Mahana, before he says, “I should be a traitor, but by some strike of fortune I live when I should have been killed.”

Mlinzi picks up the chalice and once again chugs another chalice full of mushroom wine, but this time he refrains from refilling his cup, “Before I was captain and brother to the king, I was not even born yet but the foundations of our bond and peace with the glirdon were already forming. Upendo’s father was a warmongering tyrant of a king, whose legendary martial prowess is more real than most historians wish to give credit. Wavita the Warlord raided human settlements and stole vast riches from the surface and unfortunately for Upendo enhanced a tradition that continues with the marauding bands that support black market merchants like Muuzaduk to this day. You’d think that Upendo would follow in his father’s footsteps and legacy, but when a father is absent from a child’s life then the footsteps that should be followed are oft ignored and leave a child open to new inspirations and mentors that will actually guide youths toward their futures. Thus, the warlord unwittingly raised a historian, as it was the storytellers that ended up raising Upendo in Wavita the Warlord’s stead.”

“That explains why Upendo is so well versed in history that I thought long lost,” I say absent mindedly taking a sip of wine as I watch the Glirdon begin to dance around the burning cloaks below us.

“Indeed, and it is because of this knowledge that the hole that greed often digs into the hearts of many was left filled,” says Mlinzi taking an absentminded sip from his empty chalice as his eyes stare unwaveringly at the now dancing Mahana, who spins and twirls with her freed sistren in rapturous ecstasy spurred on by the voices that emulate all manner of sounds to musically inspire further joyous celebration. Mlinzi clearly tired of filling his cup grabs the bottle that we were sharing and claims it as his new drinking vessel before he continues, “It was in history that Upendo saw the future. He knew that his father would inevitably bring a violent end to himself, and in a sense predicted Wavita’s assassination at the hands of spies sent by the church of the One-Eyed Prophet. It was in history’s council that Upendo betrayed his peaceful ideals and didn’t demilitarize our people when he became king but prepared for human retaliation for the sins of his father, and it did eventually come just in the most tragic of times. Upendo sought to break the cycles of violence held in the annals of history but acknowledged that one must be strong to defend the future and maybe one day find the road to peace. Upendo, was not his father and it was because he wasn’t his father that a traitor would become his brother.”

“So, we finally getting to where you come into the story?” I ask sipping and actually tasting the surprisingly sweet and complex flavor of the wine that I didn’t acknowledge when I chugged down my first glass, “I’m guessing it has something to do with Mahana doesn’t it.”

“I was born about two to three years before Queen Malkia died in childbirth bearing princess Binti into the world. It was because of princess Binti’s murder and princess Uzuri’s imprisonment that I’d find myself inspired to join the guard as I wanted vengeance upon the humans that had received so much mercy from my people and did nothing but spit in our faces. I was sixteen years old, and my emotions ruled me. All those that should have convinced me to not join the military were long dead, as my parents died as soldiers in Wavita’s armies shortly after I was born and my grandparents died when I was ten years of age leaving me to survive on my own at an early age,” says Mlinzi as he watches Mahana disappear into the trees of the thicket speaking to two glirdon women. He grumbles to himself watching her leave and then sets the bottle of wine back onto the table.

“Wait that would me that princess Binti was only thirteen, maybe fourteen years old when she was killed by Gehenna. I always assumed that she was an adult because the villagers all called her a woman,” I say horrified by this new detail I’ve learned about the horrors concerning the conception of Uzuri, “she was still a girl, and she was…”

“Interesting, so the Unadeamy have exaggerated the princess’s age to protect them from fully drinking in the heinous deeds of the demon they called a leader,” says Mlinzi, and with that information he takes the bottle up again and downs the rest of its contents. Mlinzi throws the bottle to the ground where it shatters and exhales sharply as if to show appreciation for the wine he just consumed and distract himself from the dark revelation I was having.

“My mother called her a girl, whereas the people of the village called her a woman,” I say not wanting to accept what I just heard and to distract myself from darker thoughts I ask, “so you still haven’t told me how you became a traitor.”

“Aye your right about that, and to bad I don’t have more booze to wet my throat as I do so,” says Mlinzi staring into the thicket as if hoping that Mahana would return, “The predicted human retaliation for the sins of the father did eventually come, and it came right when a grandfather should have been plotting the rescue of his granddaughter. The Unadeamy weren’t a threat to anyone but Upendo and Uzuri, and thus Upendo had to relent to his responsibility as a king and abandon his heart. I was young and inexperienced, so instead of being sent to the front lines in Tackenae a merciful sergeant took pity on a delusional sixteen-year-old and had me placed in the border guard in the rear of our forces. As a hot-headed teenager denied his original purpose of signing up for the military and the supposed glory of combat, I wasn’t exactly what you’d call a model soldier, but I did fulfill my duties just not with the efficiency and discipline that I exhibit now.”

I eye Mlinzi then the broken bottle of wine next to him and he understanding the insinuation of my glance says, “I’m on vacation, and I’d much rather have different company than the boy I’ll be babysitting, but beggars can’t be choosers when the beggar doesn’t like drinking alone.”

“I guess you don’t like leering at glirdon alone either,” I jest to watch Mlinzi snatch up the two chalices with a sneer.

“Don’t you dare insult the sacred rite performed this night!” says Mlinzi awkwardly getting up from where he sat, “this night you saw the once enslaved return to the flock as family, and you dare insinuate that I was lecherous in showing you the fruits of my and Mahana’s efforts!”

“I’m sorry,” I say raising my hands in an appeal for his mercy. I must have struck a nerve, or rather I don’t have the report with Mlinzi like Upendo does to make such jests with him yet, “I might have been finding myself a little too comfortable with you, and made that comment in bad judgement.”

Mlinzi sighs and stumbles his way back to his chair at the stone table, “you’re lucky I’m too drunk to hold a grudge. You’re lucky that I’m obligated to be your brother because Upendo forced that relationship onto me by making you his brother when I already was his brother. My head’s starting to pound, how are you not as drunk as I am.”

“I don’t think I can get drunk anymore, just a perk and curse of my lineage,” I say again staring at the shattered bottle next to Mlinzi, “so, what happened next? You became a border guard and were frustrated with not being a soldier on the front lines.”

Mlinzi nods his head, closes his eyes and rubs his head, “well, my desire to be the front of anything eventually got me promoted to protect the entrances of the tunnels that make the border between Tackenae and the mountain halls and not the inner defenses housed within the tunnels themselves. I marched outside under the sun, rain, moon, snow, and more, and being outside the tunnels meant that I saw some fair share of skirmishes, but nothing like the bloody battles my companions in arms on the front lines did. One day while I marched on patrol, I saw the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen enter teratolion guarded territory with a cohort, and that could have been the beginning of the end for me.”

“I’m assuming that was Mahana, given that Upendo and your eyes tonight make it seem you only have one person in your heart, and it is Mahana alone,” I say watching as the rest of the dancing glirdon also disappear into the trees of the thicket as the fire of burning cloaks becomes nothing but cinders.

“I can’t deny that” says Mlinzi with a deep sigh and a drunken hiccup, “the day we met, Mahana was on the run from the retribution of slavers. Mahana had killed her human masters and freed her fellow slaves, and thus garnered the wrath of humanity. Her and her people were running for their lives, but back then the wingless were not permitted to return to their tribes as they could no longer fly. Most glirdon are nomadic, establishing bases for camps that they transition between depending on the prevalence of forage and game in the hunting grounds that surround said camp bases. It is in this nomadic lifestyle that those that can’t fly would be left behind and thus became unwelcome back into their tribes and families even if they escaped slavery. Mahana still possessed her wings and wanted to travel back to her tribe and family, but at the same time couldn’t abandon those of her new people that no longer had a home with the glirdon and were at threat of being returned to a life of slavery or being put to death.”

Mlinzi chuckles to himself before he continues, “I was young, and my emotions enthralled me. I fell in love with this glirdon that was beautiful inside and out, and I in my newfound love betrayed my people for her. I knew that a blight had recently destroyed our harvests of fungi, but I couldn’t just abandon Mahana and her people. I began to steal food for Mahana and her people from the rations of the teratolion army.”

“That’s why you call yourself a traitor,” I say realizing the gravity of stealing from the army that you serve with the precious food that was provided to them while those within the mountain starved.

Mlinzi raises his snout and grunts. His body slumps and then he lowers his head revealing the contention he feels remembering his past deeds, “I didn’t know how bad things were getting back in the mountain halls. I was a soldier, and my belly was filled with the fruits of pillage and the meager offerings of the rations provided by our farmers. All I knew was that I believed there was enough food, sometimes more than enough food for the army, and because I was helping only ten glirdon at the time I didn’t think that the food would be missed.”

“I’m guessing that ten glirdon became more,” I say realizing that the word ‘only’ was pivotal in Mlinzi’s betrayal.

Mlinzi shakes his body to nod his head, “yes. Mahana climbed the mountain with those that would be accepted back into their tribes knowing that the wingless of her group would be safe with me, and then she came back down with orders from the highest court of her people to continue rescuing more of her enslaved brothers and sisters. I tried to reason with her that the highest court were sending her on a fool’s errand, that she’d be killed, but Mahana proved me wrong. Time and time again she’d go out and come back with more and more glirdon and suddenly the small camp of wingless glirdon became a small village that relied upon teratolion protection and supplies to survive. It became harder and harder to hide them as their numbers grew. I’d alter patrol routes and take more shifts to help hide the growing wingless glirdon village, and even alter logistics records to hide my thievery. Though, once logistics officers began double checking books that I cooked to hide my pilfering, the jig was up.”

“I was taken to a prison potentially awaiting a death sentence for years of treason. My only comfort was that I had helped the woman I loved save hundreds of her people by giving her a safe place to hide and rest. My only regret was that the wingless glirdon would most likely be displaced again or taken prisoner for my actions,” says Mlinzi getting up from where he sat, and he waves to me to follow him. Mlinzi takes a few tentative steps and grabs me by the back of the neck to use me as a crutch as he hobbles in the dark.

“To much to drink?” I ask as I sling his arm around my shoulders, and he gratefully accepts my help by putting more of his weight on me. If I wasn’t a celandil with the ability to augment my physical strength with soul craft both he and I would have crashed into the ground.

“Mushroom wine tends to have a delayed intoxication, which makes it hard to judge how much is too much,” says Mlinzi shaking his head to try and refocus himself to continue taking steps forward, “I should probably finish the story before the wine fully takes me.”

“Yeah, we’ve hit quite the cliffhanger,” I say almost dragging Mlinzi as we continue our journey back to the embassy house.

Mlinzi places his head on my shoulder and chortles, “your strong brother you know that.”

“The story Mlinzi,” I say as Mlinzi places even more weight upon my shoulders.

“Mahana came to save me,” says Mlinzi slurring his words, “She begged for an audience with Upendo, and Upendo wasn’t like his father, so he let her in and heard her pleas. Through the love of an idiot teenager, who was now a young man whose feelings only had grown stronger for a glirdon woman, Upendo forged an alliance using forgiveness of my crimes and continued support of the wingless village as the collateral for peace. The glirdon would join us in our war with the humans and helped us reduce casualties by giving us air support. With their help and the civil war erupting in southern Tackenae the crusade the humans waged against my people came to an end. Because Upendo showed me mercy I didn’t deserve, I promised Upendo to be his servant for the rest of my life, and in serving him he eventually found me worthy to be his brother. Basically, everyone became best buddies, except for the human bastards who can’t even be their own buddies, the end.”

Snores erupt from Mlinzi’s snout as I carry the now sleeping drunk completely on my back. Funny how hopeless love has driven so much of the modern history of the teratolion. There was my father and my mother, then Mlinzi and Mahana, and then me and Uzuri. I guess that bleeding hearts sometimes can change the world for the better, and not just fill it with more pain.