Chapter 10: Zulanah (Part 2).

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  Somewhere near Solmaris, Month: 94, Year: 226.

  Morning sunlight filtered through the branches above, painting patterns on her face. The rough bark of the tree dug into her back, and her body ached from the awkward position she had been forced to sleep in. She groaned softly, shifting her stiff limbs. Her silver hair was a tangled mess, stray strands clinging to her cold cheeks.

  She drew in a deep breath and froze. The air smelled different, salty, heavy, like soaked stone. She turned her head, and in the distance, the valley gleamed with water where none had been before.

  “That wasn’t there yesterday,” she said aloud to herself.

  “Is that… the ocean?” She brushed the hair from her eyes and leaned over the edge towards the ground below. “Hey Mitti, is that...” She stopped mid-sentence, as she saw no one underneath.

  “Figures,” she sighed. “Not even a goodbye.”

  Zulanah scanned the area, making sure it was safe before climbing down. She was just shifting her weight to descend when a sound made her freeze, they were human voices.

  She crouched low, silent among the leaves, and peered through the branches. A caravan moved along the path, pulled by large woolly animals unlike she had ever seen. And the people pulling those woolly animals; who were they?

  They were definitely human, but unlike any of her sisters. Were they even Drakvari?

  Likely not, but if they weren't Drakvari… What were they?

  They wore strange clothes, and they didn't look similar enough to be daughters of the same queen. They seemed mostly uniform in size and appearance, no clear distinction between workers, warriors or other. A couple of them had no hair in their head, but many did have hair on their faces.

  The thought tore through her mind like thunder. Are they Haksari?

  They were the first ones she had ever seen, but she expected them to be more monstrous. Instead, they felt oddly familiar.

  She ducked between the leaves. According to everything she heard from the surface, these travelers were even more dangerous than Mitti; and there were a lot of them.

  She crawled down as silently as she was able to, deciding to follow them for a while before deciding the next move. But first, she had to return to grab her backpack, or whatever remained of it. She tracked her steps back, until behind the bushes that had scratched her arm, she found the backpack and her scattered belongings.

  “It sure seemed like a much longer distance when Mitti was chasing me yesterday.” She muttered to herself as she gathered her belongings.

  Suddenly, an instinct crawled her spine and her legs started moving her forward before her mind had time to catch up. “Why am I running?” She asked herself out loud. The answer to that question came immediately as she heard Mitti's familiar guttural sounds.

  “Leave me alone already,” She yelled as she sprinted away.

  As she ran, she saw the caravan, and no cover or place to climb. Mitti had already decided to eat her, but with these Haksari, the question was still in the air. She prayed to Auron and placed her bet that these Haksari would be less hungry or vicious than the beast at her back.

  One of them moved. A single Haksari stepped out from the caravan, blade flashing in the sun, placing themselves between predator and prey. Mitti skidded to a halt, claws digging into the earth. The two faced each other: monster versus monster, all was silent but for the low rumble from Mitti’s throat. The Haksari advanced one step, steady and fearless. And to Zulanah’s astonishment, the beast backed away, growling low, belly close to the dirt as it slipped into the forest’s shadow. Why would Mitti stop now? What did this Haksari do that would frighten a creature like that?

  The Haksari turned toward her, and for a heartbeat, Zulanah forgot to breathe. Something about them felt… off. Then she realized why. Was it… a male? Growing up in an almost exclusively female society, she was familiar with the concept, but she'd never seen one; even of her own kind.

  Uncertainty swelled in her chest. Should she flee? Hide? Before she could decide, the man spoke.

  “Me, peace,” he said, his voice thick, the words strange on his tongue.

  Zulanah blinked. What?

  He tried again, slower this time. “Me... peace.”

  He lowered his blade, sliding it carefully back into its sheath, a gesture that even she understood. His shoulders relaxed.

  Zulanah exhaled shakily. “Please don’t eat me. Please don’t eat me,” she muttered under her breath, as she allowed him to approach her.

  She followed the Haksari man toward the rest of the caravan, feeling dozens of eyes turn to her. Conversations quieted, replaced by low murmurs in a language she couldn’t decipher. Their words rippled around her like the rustling of leaves, familiar in rhythm, but utterly alien in meaning.

  Two figures stepped forward to meet her. Both were young women, one with hair the color of Auron’s golden rings, the other’s was a deep, venomous red, the color of a poisonous mushroom. They smiled and gestured toward a nearby cart, inviting her to sit.

  Zulanah hesitated, studying them. She had heard countless tales of the Haksari: the sun worshipers, the dwellers of the surface. Some said they bore horns. Others said that they stood no taller than a child. Yet here they were: ordinary, almost disappointingly so. Two arms, two legs, five fingers. No horns. Not tiny.

  If not for the startling variety of their hair and eyes, the lack of tail and the facial hair some of them had, they could’ve passed for Drakvari at a glance.

  Zulanah sat inside the wagon, legs crossed, watching her two traveling companions. The young women were deep in conversation, yet neither uttered a sound besides giggles and breathing. Their hands moved swiftly and gracefully through the air, fingers weaving meaning she couldn’t grasp. Every so often, they paused to laugh, a sound light and unguarded before their hands began moving again.

  The blonde Haksari turned, pulled a piece of bread from a satchel, and placed it gently in Zulanah’s hands.

  “Seriously? Thank you,” Zulanah murmured, though she knew her words meant nothing to them. She took a bite, and although it was just bread, there was something in it that made it remarkably different from any bread she had tried before, however not worse. The red-haired Haksari reached into another bag, produced a tin bottle, and offered it with a smile and a few incomprehensible words. Zulanah opened it, breathed in the cool scent, and realized it was water. “Thank you,” she said again, softer this time.

  Zulanah sat in silence as the two Haksari women continued their wordless conversation. Watching them, she thought of Qilani: of the late-night talks and quiet laughter they used to share in Kalista’s halls. The memory ached.

  She reached into her satchel, searching for the pinecone, but her fingers met only fabric and dust. I must have dropped it during the chase, she thought, a pang of disappointment settling in her chest.

  Time dragged on, the rhythmic creak of the wagon lulled her, and before long, slumber beat her as she hadn't managed to sleep deeply in days. She didn’t remember closing her eyes, but when she opened them again, the world outside had turned amber with evening light. The cart no longer moved, and the Haksari women were gone.

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  A rich, unfamiliar scent drifted through the air, something warm, rich, and inviting. Zulanah sat up, ran a hand through her tangled hair, and climbed down. The group of Haksari were gathered near the fire, cooking. Her stomach tightened with hunger; even if she didn’t recognize the smells, every one of them made her mouth water.

  A rhythmic clatter drew Zulanah’s attention: Clak-clak-clak. It was something that sounded similar to the clash of mycelium composite, a hardened fungal material they use to make furniture in Kalista, but it wasn't quite. Was this sound wood against wood? Like the sort of wood that trees are made out of? She turned toward the sound and saw the man who had faced Mitti earlier, sparring with her two cart companions. The women moved hesitantly, their strikes uncertain, while the man corrected their form with patient gestures and firm nods.

  From the cooking fires, someone called out in their language. The three paused and made their way over.

  The blonde Haksari cleared sweat from her forehead and exhaled slowly. She pointed toward a fallen log nearby, her hands and face moving in a way Zulanah understood with surprising clarity. She’s inviting me to sit next to them.

  Zulanah sat on the spot. “I’m Zulanah,” she said aloud, pointing to herself. “Zulanah.”

  The red-haired Haksari paused mid-bite, then attempted the name. “Zoo... laa... na?”

  Zulanah nodded eagerly.

  The red-haired pointed to herself. “Da-ni-ra.” Then to the blonde. “E-lis.”

  Zulanah repeated the mane correctly on the first try, and Danira celebrated with a wide smile.

  Finally, Danira gestured toward the man that had faced Mitti, the one with dark hair growing out of both his head and his face. She said something Zulanah couldn’t quite catch. After repeating it several times, slowly and carefully, she got it right.

  “Jared.”

  Jared laughed and handed her a small bowl, also seemingly made out of wood. Zulanah smelled its unique aroma and bowed her head in thanks, accepting it with both hands, careful not to seem rude.

  The food he poured in the bowl was warm and fragrant, unlike anything she had ever tasted. She took small, cautious bites, savoring the unfamiliar spices. However, when she finally let her guard down, something set her tongue ablaze. A searing heat spread across her mouth, sharp and wild, like swallowing fire. Her eyes went wide. Her throat tightened. She snatched up her water and drank in frantic gulps, coughing between breaths.

  Poison? The ominous thought made her heart race. Are they trying to poison me? Why bother learning my name if they're just gonna kill me?

  But when she dared to look up, everyone else was eating the same meal, unbothered, some even watching her reaction with mild amusement. Elise noticed her panic, smiled softly, and plucked the same herb from Zulanah’s bowl. She popped it into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed without flinching.

  The others burst into laughter, light and genuine.

  They like this? Zulanah thought, bewildered, setting the offending herb aside. They choose to eat this?

  “Solhara. Harmless… but spicy.”

  Zulanah coughed, not just from the lingering burn on her tongue and her ears, but from the surprise of hearing words in her own language. The voice had come from behind: deep, slow and marked by an accent that twisted every word into something foreign yet familiar.

  A man stood a few paces away, the firelight glinting off a coarse beard and the worn fabric of the heavy sack he carried.

  “You know my language,” she muttered in disbelief.

  “Only little,” he replied with careful effort. “Merchant.” He tapped his chest. “Do business with Drakvari.”

  Zulanah rose, bowl in hand, meeting the man’s gaze directly. She had to tilt her head back as he was much taller than her, though still much shorter than the warriors of Kalista. He looked older, with graying facial hair and something in his composure marked him as the one in charge.

  It wasn't just because he was bigger than anyone else there, there also seemed to be respect in the gestures everyone had with him.

  “Thank you for helping me,” she said, bowing her head. And for not eating me, she almost added, but wisely kept it to herself.

  The man set his heavy sack down with care and loosened its ties. Inside lay a heap of dark, fragrant grains. Jared’s eyes lit up immediately, reaching toward them like a child. The scent hit her next: rich, bitter; and although she had only ever smelled it a handful of times in the kitchens of the palace: unmistakable. Coffee, she realized, recalling how the higher-ups of Kalista drank it on festival nights.

  The man studied her, his gaze filled with concern. “Not common,” he said slowly. “Worker alone? Refugee… from Jubel Archipelago?”

  Zulanah didn’t know the word, but the shift in the group’s expressions told her it wasn’t a pleasant place.

  He frowned, reconsidering. “No… you from Kalista,” he said, more certain this time.

  “Yes, I’m a daughter of Queen Kalista. Zulanah of Kalista,” she said, extending her hand.

  The man clasped it firmly. “Bolsig. But people call Sig.”

  He settled down beside her with the easy confidence of someone used to being obeyed. “If from Kalista,” he asked, brow furrowing, “why here?”

  Zulanah tilted her face toward the sky. Even though none of the others understood her words, they watched her closely, as if her answer mattered. “I… I wanted to see the world outside.”

  Sig chuckled, the sound low and rough. “How old you?”

  “Almost two,” she said.

  His eyes widened. “Almost two, and never outside Kalista?”

  “That’s right,” she replied, smiling faintly. “Most of us never leave the underground. Some don’t even believe there’s anything beyond our tunnels.”

  He let out a long breath, eyes tracing the stars. “First time out, huh?” he said softly. “Feels like new world, yes?”

  Jared passed her a cup, the steam curling in the air between them. “Coffee?”

  It was a word that needed no translation, as the Drakvari probably just used the same word the Haksari who cultivated it called it.

  Zulanah nodded and accepted it. The rich, bitter scent drifted up, intoxicating.

  Sig watched her for a moment. “Well, you out now,” he said. “What Zulanah think?”

  Zulanah looked up at the night sky, then at the people gathered around the bonfire. The smoke, laughter, and distant song of nature wove together in a rhythm that felt impossibly alive. “It’s more magical than I imagined,” she responded.

  Sig nodded, gaze following hers.

  “I travel much,” he said. “?????? merchant. I merchant. World magical… true.”

  ??????? Zulanah did not catch that word, perhaps it had no translation, or Sig just didn't know it, yet it was a word he said with great admiration.

  “But dangerous too.” He said in an almost cautious tone.

  Zulanah frowned, curiosity stirring. He leaned closer, voice low. “The Taken… real. I not believe at firs, but… real.” He paused as he looked at the other members of the caravan. “That why we here. Take refugees to near village. Bring supplies, help in Solmaris.”

  Zulanah didn’t fully understand, but his tone left no room for doubt. The world beyond the tunnels of Kalista was larger and more mysterious than she had dreamed.

  Zulanah said nothing, only watched the firelight flicker across her face as she sipped the bitter, fragrant drink. The warmth filled her mouth, then a bitter taste.

  She coughed sharply. “Cough - cough!” The taste was darker, harsher than she’d expected from such a sweet scent.

  Sig threw his head back and laughed. “Coffee!” he said. “You like… when get used to.”

  She managed a sheepish smile, rubbing her throat. But before she could reply, a sudden tug startled her. The cup slipped from her hands and splashed into the dirt. Zulanah spun around, bracing for an animal, only to find a small Haksari child clinging to her tail, laughing triumphantly.

  Sig reacted instantly, scooping the child up into his arms as she giggled and pointed. Though Zulanah couldn’t understand the words, she guessed the meaning easily enough: Look, she has a tail!

  “Sorry,” Sig said with an embarrassed grin. “Children.”

  Tail-pulling was an insult in Kalista, but how could she be angry at a child who didn’t know? She simply bowed her head and hoped no one was offended by her spilled coffee. Yet, nobody seemed bothered.

  When the fires dimmed and camp was packed away, Zulanah returned to the cart she shared with Elise and Danira. Both fell asleep instantly. Unable to sleep, her mind drifted to the events that had transpired since she left Kalista until her mind took her back to that wide empty room. The one of her dreams, the one with the lone pinecone standing in the middle, the once she regretted dropping in the chase. She put her hand inside the satchel, expecting to find nothing. But to her surprise, she felt something rough and full of dents. The pinecone lay inside, its scales hard and organized as she remembered them, as if it had never been gone.

  To my dearest friend Qilani,

  I want you to know that I’m safe. The journey has been challenging, but the world beyond is even more breathtaking than I imagined. I saw the sky, Auron, the many moons and the countless stars that adorn it. I saw the ocean…. or at least I think I did.

  And guess what? … I'm traveling with Haksari now, and they don't seem to eat Drakvari.

  On a side note, the relic from Auron is still a puzzle. I keep it close, but its powers remain hidden from me. Sometimes, I wonder if it even has any.

  Most of all, I hope you’re all right. I worry that my choices might have brought you trouble. If they did, I’m so sorry. Please tell me you’re safe and that life continues as it should back home. You’re often in my thoughts, and I hope to hear from you one day.

  Take care of yourself, my friend. I’ll write again when I can.

  – Zulanah

  Elise's Journey.

  Chapter 13: Dionaea (Part 1).

  Qilani's Campaign.

  Chapter 12: Tekira (Part 1).

  Thank you very much for taking the time to read my story.