Zephi’s training was much more intense than her personality would lead you to believe. The “mom friend” of their group as Maia had come to think of her could be considered a gentle parent until it was time for their daily training, then she was authoritarian as a drill sergeant. According to Zephi, this was just light training; not even the rigorous training that she and her tribe, which Maia learned were called the Zalephi, regularly practiced. Zephi didn’t tell her, but this was the training they used for children. When Zalephi are only four, they begin learning how to fall so they do not get injured, how to throw a punch, and how to use an opponent’s weight against them. They worked on their flexibility and awareness of their surroundings until it became second nature to notice the slightest movement in their peripherals. Maia was in her late twenties, however, and the plasticity of a more youthful brain wasn’t available to her. She didn’t think of herself as in “bad shape,” but she had the stamina of someone who rarely ate vegetables and sat at desk or on a couch most days, which meant she really didn’t have much. Many of us convince ourselves that if needed we could jump right into an adventure if needed, but rarely do we think about how much time we spend consuming stories about others’ adventures while sitting on our rear ends.
They began and ended their days with poses Maia found reminiscent of yoga and Tai Chi, and that alone left her sore in places she didn’t realize could be sore. Despite this, Maia felt more invigorated than she had in years and less useless now that she could practice stances when the others were busy. They started to have a rhythm to each day: wake up, train with Zephi, eat breakfast, discuss the route with Thatcher, then travel for most of the day, stop in the evening, train again, eat dinner, sleep, and repeat. Maia had started to feel comfortable with this rhythm, like a class schedule she could follow. Then they were only a day outside of Shiverdawn, and the routine they had established suddenly changed.
The night before they arrived, Zephi debuted their new outfits she had made, complete with a new set of pouches for Trelli and a scarf for Bessie. The fabrics were various textures in shades of blue and green. Zephi’s new outfit consisted of a pale green dress that wrapped sinuously around her tall, muscular form. She could have easily passed for a statue of a warrior goddess from ancient Greece with her dark hair in elaborate braids woven down her back. Maia’s own outfit was two pieces and in a shimmery teal several shades darker. The bottoms were a pair of billowing high-waisted pants with a coordinating top, cropped at the waist with ties up the side. Zephi insisted on slicking her hair back with a strange sparkling tree sap. They could buy shoes once in the city, but most of its citizens went barefoot.
“Zephi, is there anything you can’t do?” Maia asked, going through some of the postures they had been practicing in her new clothing.
Zephyra thought for a moment, “I can’t whistle,” she said seriously.
“Um.. oh. Well, that’s not too bad,” Maia replied, “I can’t cook, make clothes, or fight; so you have me beat.”
“I haven’t beaten you! We haven’t gotten to that stage of training yet. That is very far off. Now do a slow turn, I’m worried that I haven’t sized the pants correctly.” Zephyra said.
Maia complied and said, “You should start your own fashion line. I feel beautiful and badass.”
“Well, you're one of those things.” Thatcher said, projecting the route for the next day. Maia didn’t know whether she should feel flattered or insulted so she just sputtered for a moment while Zephi smiled to herself adjusting the waist of Maia’s pants.
The next morning quickly arrived, and Maia bounced in her seat with excitement as the forest surrounding the road parted and in front of her appeared a large landmass, hanging in the air above what seemed to be a lake. The floating island was partially obscured by clouds, only the tips of glistening white towers could be seen above and jagged bedrock below. There was a constant runoff of water streaming down the sides, resulting in a curtain of water falling around the city below. More religious visitors would compare it to seeing heaven or Olympus, and perhaps it is what inspired both. But Maia looked at it and saw a fairy tale come to life; she saw ink and words come to life from her mind’s eye to a physical place before her.
The city of Shiverdawn beneath the Falls consisted of floating wooden buildings and stilted houses connected by rope bridges on a lake under the island. As they rode towards the city, the sweet smell of rain pervaded the air, and the warmth of the day made the air sticky with humidity. Maia’s heart throbbed in her chest as they approached. Zephi and Thatcher watched her amazement in silence, letting her absorb the grandiosity of both the place and the magic that it contained. A large ferry sat at the edge of the lake to grant passage to travelers with caravans and carts to a large deck where they could be parked if a stay lasted overnight. After boarding the ferry, which was empty except for a few other horse-drawn caravans, they passed through a gap in a thick curtain of water streaming from above. The light of day was dimmed by the island overhead, but Maia could still see the purple sky stretching out beyond its shadow.
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Lanterns bobbed in the water and along the edges of the buildings, guiding them into the city. Many people swam in the water, children sat on the edge of the bridges laughing, and old men threw nets from the boats nearby. Many of them wore only loin cloths and strings of beads around their necks and arms. Some wore clothing similar to Maia’s, but most wore short togas that clung to their damp bodies. There were people whose cheeks shone with scales and people who had small fins jutting from their forearms, a testament to their ancestry. Once they drew closer, Maia noticed that most of them had webbing between their fingers and toes. Maia and Zephyra disembarked, unhooking Bessie from the caravan.
Maia found herself unable to speak, taking in the sights and sounds around her. The constant sound of a heavy rain falling, the splashing of divers, and the smell of grilled fish filling her senses. Maia was sure Thatcher would make a sarcastic comment about how she looked like a fish with her mouth agape and he did have several fish related puns prepared, but he didn’t want to ruin the moment. After they had stabled Bessie, and Zephyra had given her several large fish for dinner, they went into the city in search of a place to stay the night.
They did not have to travel far from the caravan deck to find a tavern with open rooms, and took a seat in a back booth for privacy as they pulled out the map Thatcher inhabited. Zephyra ordered a pitcher of a sweet green liquor and two orders of a dish Maia could not pronounce. The dish turned out to be similar to a sushi cake, and Maia ate it with vigor. She watched people come and go into the tavern, discussing their lives as any people would. A couple of women say at the bar loudly laughing about the love life of a mutual friend, a group of men sat at a table and fought over the best type of weather to catch a certain fish, and a couple sat in a corner coming seriously close to needing to get a room for the night rather than a booth for the evening. Most didn’t even look over at them, involved in their own lives, though a few shot them curious looks, and Maia overheard one man dare his friend to buy Zephi a drink. The man did not have the courage nor the goodness required to do so.
Maia did have to stop Trelli from zipping with her pouch of laxatives to a nearby table of older women who kept shooting them dirty looks. Zephyra did not seem to give them any mind and muttered to herself the ingredients of the sushi cake to remember for later.
“Are you even listening to me?” Thatcher said, interrupting Maia’s eavesdropping.
“Uh… no,” she admitted.
Thatcher huffed, “Do you want to know about this city’s lore or not? You’re the one who asked for more details.”
“I do. I do! I just can’t believe I’m actually here. Under a fucking floating island! How are you not freaking out right now?” Maia said, as always using curses to help emphasize her point.
“Probably because even if the island falls, I’m already flat.”
“Oh, haha. Aren’t you funny.” She said, rolling her eyes, “So, they worship the island above?”
“No, they worship the gods said to inhabit the island. Even though there are very few records of anyone visiting it, despite the magic that should allow them to travel there. In fact, it is forbidden to try now.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Why wouldn’t they want to know what’s up there? I mean, there was obviously a civilization at one point. You can see the towers on the island as you arrive.” She asked, puzzled.
“Supposedly, if someone visits the island, it will fall from the sky and crush Shiverdawn beneath it. Not sure if they think any more weight will bring it down, a curse, or what. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard anything about it.”
“That just makes me want to know what is up there even more.”
“I imagine many people feel that way, but the city has a special military force to investigate anyone who would try and punish anyone who attempts.” Their conversation fizzled out as Zephi excitedly told them how to make the dish, and Trelli once again attempted to poison the old women. Soon, it was time for them to retire for the evening so they could go buy supplies and go on a short excursion in the city the next day. They headed up to their room where instead of beds were large cushioned hammocks, which Maia crawled into exhausted from her excitement. She fell asleep quickly, but as she dozed off, she envisioned flying a winged Bessie to the city above.