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Large gates with razor-sharp pointed arrow tips loom imposingly before us. Wrought from iron, they interrupt a stretch of wall composed of stones, expertly stacked, that rises as high as the walls that surround Cassowary. Swallowing hard, I glance out the rear passenger side window of our vehicle, heart thumping harder as it lurches to my throat, and see a placard bolted to the stone. It reads City of Agroth, and for reasons I can’t quite explain, those three words are foreboding. They strike a bolt of pain that flashes across my forehead from temple to temple.
Two guards armed with swords sheathed at each hip and positioned at the gate spot our car. Their hands immediately reach for their weapons. Luc twists the key and turns off the engine then opens the driver’s side door. He climbs out. Peter follows suit and they both approach the gate. “I’m Luc, Dhaval’s cousin. I’m here to meet with him.”
The guard’s expressions reveal little, just a slight widening of their beady eyes in otherwise stoic palettes. However, their vacuous faces transform when they order the gate open and Luc directs the car over the threshold of the city limits. One sees Sully and me. His head whipsaws from us to the Urthman beside him then back to us. “Halt!” he shouts, one hand flying up into the air while the other reaches for the hilt of his blade as he dives in front of the car. Peter slams on the brake and Sully and I pitch forward. “We have no orders to let you in for any meeting.”
“He didn’t know I was coming,” Luc replies.
“Are those humans you have with you?” The guard stabs his finger through the air accusingly, pointing at us as he spits the word “humans” with equal parts revulsion and shock.
My hand reflexively grips the door handle and I pull it toward me as I push the door open. Stepping out so that the guard retreats a pace, I square my shoulders, planting my hands on my hips and say, “Yes, we’re humans traveling with these Urthmen.” I gesture toward Peter and Luc. “We’re also here to meet with Dhaval.”
The guard before me studies my face then recognition sparks in his gaze. But before he utters a word, the Urthman beside him says, “You’re Azlyn.” An odd sense of astonishment and awe trembles in the atmosphere around us. I can’t be sure whether they intend to kill me where I stand or genuflect. Judging from their fidgety mannerisms, I’m not certain they’ve decided for themselves yet. I’m grateful when Sully slides out and positions himself beside me. “Okay, uh, proceed as you were,” the Urthman that stopped us says and waves us on with short, jerky sweeping motions of his hand. “Everyone exit the vehicle. You can leave it here.” He returns his sword to its sheath and Sully and I wait while Luc and Peter climb out of the car once again.
“That went well,” Peter turns to us and says.
Nervous laughter bubbles among us as we’re shepherded by a new group of guards that joins the other two. The new additions greet us with the same range of emotions the first ones did before they urge us to follow them.
We’re led down a long gravel path with little more than communication posts interspersed among sheds on either side of the walkway, and for a moment, I wonder how Luc referred to this place as a city at all. It appears as little more than an intelligence compound. But soon the gravel gives was to a paved trail, and we are ushered into the city that waits beyond. Lamplight glows softly along the cobbled path we follow, illuminating the pinks and grays of the stone that form it. Stout buildings give way to taller striking structures. Where at first I wondered why lamps were lit along the walkway in daylight, I discover that they’re necessary as the buildings eclipse the sun, darkening the city. Aspects of the set up call to mind sections of Washington Central. The critical difference, though, was that an Urthman had never set foot in or inhabited any part of the underground city.
Far larger than Cassowary, Agroth spans as far as the eye can see and is teeming with activity. Thousands of Urthmen move about between buildings, dodging and weaving to avoid colliding. A buzz hums in the air, a frenetic energy that dictates an equally frantic pace. Everyone appears to hurry, racing and scurrying to an unseen destination that pulls them with the force of a great magnet. When they see us, however, the urgency that drives them, the magnetism, comes to an abrupt halt. Heads whip in our direction, many doing double-takes. Jaws drop. Eyes round. The reactions vary, all except for a single unifying element: hatred. Pure, unadulterated hatred hangs in the atmosphere like a mist. It coats my tongue, foul and acidic, as fists are shaken and curse words hurled. “Human scum!” a female Urthman calls out right before I feel a glob of something wet hit my forehead. I swipe my forehead with the sleeve of my shirt, my stomach churning and my blood simmering. The five guards leading us along the sidewalk do nothing to thwart the jeers or spitting. I spin and unsheathe my sword, scanning the faces for the person guilty of spitting on me. Not surprisingly, they all look guilty. Any one of them could have done it or would have done it gladly.
Sully pulls his blades as well. “This is a nightmare,” he mutters as he circles.
His words echo my thoughts exactly. Agroth is a nightmare realized. I allowed myself to believe we’d be well received. I’d been delusional apparently. Spending time with Peter and Luc has given me the false impression that all Urthmen have evolved past murderous and hostile tendencies. “I can’t believe this.”
Suddenly beside me, Peter grips my elbow in one hand. I whirl on him, reacting to his touch and assuming it is the start of an assault. “Whoa, whoa,” he says. “It’s just me.” The tightly coiled tension in my body abates slightly. “Calm down,” he says and eyes my sword. “Do you want to die?” His question, though rhetorical, snaps me back to reality. My sword and how well I wield it is irrelevant. Sully and I are in a city inhabited by tens of thousands of Urthmen, all enemies except for two.
“These humans are with us!” Luc’s voice booms unexpectedly, silencing those in our immediate vicinity. “They’re here to meet with Dhaval.” He is bold, fearless almost to the point of recklessness as he stares at the crowd challengingly.
I return my sword to its sheath and eye Sully. He reluctantly does the same and we wait warily as screwed up features remain scrunched.
“We’re here to warn Dhaval—all of you—that you are in danger. They are not the enemy.” Peter points to Sully and I as he shouts.
Shockingly, both Peter and Luc’s words make an impact. The throng of Urthmen surrounding us thins substantially. Taunts and hisses give way to rumblings of disbelief. Nothing further is spat at us or thrown. We’re able to make our way out of the heavily populated area and into a region where squatter buildings stand, built farther apart from one another, with grassy patches separating them. Muted gray, pale blue and washed out pink stone yields to emerald-green blades of grass, rich brown wood, azure skies overhead and natural light. The air is fresher, the Urthmen presence sparse. I begin to think we’re no longer in danger but quickly learn I’ve been lulled into a false sense of security when an Urthman of average height but broad of shoulder and thick of chest dressed from head to toe in battle gear approaches. As he draws nearer, I’m given a clear view of his face. Eyes as black as coal and rimmed in dusky circles peer out from scarred skin that’s puckered with burns and raised slash marks. Widely spaced holes below them flare at the sight of us and a cruel mouth twists to one side. “Azyln, slayer of the Urthmen of Cassowary!” His words are shouted in accusation, not as a statement. “Don’t just stand there! Seize them!” he shouts at the guards escorting us.
Confusion and panic pounds a dangerous rhythm in my chest as the guards obey his command unquestioningly and accost us. Grabbing our wrists, we’re held with our arms behind us, and the possibility that this Urthman before us, garbed in a metal breastplate, is Dhaval knocks the wind from my lungs like a blow to the gut.
Reaching out, the Urthman grips my chin. Squeezing my cheeks he forces me to turn toward him, to look upon his scarred face. “Do you know who I am, Azlyn?”
“No,” I hiss and try to free my face.
Squeezing harder, he grinds his teeth. “Well then, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Armarius.” His brow lifts as if I should recognize his name. When I don’t acknowledge as much, he continues. “My brother was the leader of Cassowary before you and your people slaughtered him, his family, and every other Urthman who resided there like animals and then claimed the city as your own.” He chuckles maniacally. “And now you’re here, in my city. How lucky for me!” His voice lowers to a growl, so low and threatening it raises the fine hairs on my body. “You’ll finally pay for what you did.” Clipping his chin to the guards that hold us, he says, “These humans are enemies of the Urthmen and murders. They have no right to meet with our leader.” And with his words, we are yanked backward. Heels dragging along the stone and then in the grass, Sully and I are hauled to a place where tall stakes have been driven into the earth. Our hands are tied behind our backs and our legs are bound as well. Armarius is upon me in the space of a breath, his sword drawn and a whisper of a smile playing across his lips. He presses the cold steel to my throat, breaking the skin so that I feel the first sting of a cut. “Time to die, Azlyn,” he says through clenched teeth.
I squeeze my eyes shut and brace for the slow drag of his blade as he slits my throat, the start to a slow, agonizing death. My sister’s face fills my mind and a wave of anguish washes over me, drowning me as I imagine the hurt and devastation she’ll feel at news of my death. I never wanted to hurt her, never wanted to cause her pain.
“What is the meaning of this?” The rumble of a bass voice, ripe with indignation, shivers through the atmosphere like a rumble of thunder. A reverent hush befalls the small crowd that gathered to witness our execution and a tall, slender Urthman dressed impeccably in a dark top and slacks adorned with small gold metals and colored patches at his breast steps forward. “Armarius, drop your weapon now. These humans have come to Agroth to meet with me.” Warning touches his every word and his steely gaze is unwavering as it drills Armarius. “This is not how we treat guests.”
“Guests?” Armarius’ eyes are penetrating as they plead with the regal Urthman who’s ordered him to stand down. “These guests are the slaughterers of Cassowary.”
Holding a hand at chin height, the impeccably dressed man says, “Enough! Untie them immediately!”
Armarius hesitates a fraction of a second then does as he’s been told.
“Bring them to my chambers,” the man who’s just saved our lives commands Armmarius. The guards who’d been charged with leading us to him in the first place disperse. The four of us cross a verdant courtyard abounding with fragrant blossoms in an array of rich colors: blood reds, fiery orange, brilliant yellow and every shade in between. We continue until we stand opposite a sprawling structure with slanted ceilings made of a tiled rust-colored material and walls in a cream colored stone. Small shrubs hug either side of a front door in a rich mahogany. Turning the shiny gold handle, he pushes the door inward and an open space stretches out before us. High vaulted ceilings and walls in a pristine white that fairly glows in the bright sunlight streaming through wide window so clean and clear it’s hard to believe a pane of glass divides the outside from the inside are a stark contrast to any interior I’ve ever seen in my life. I squint against their brightness.
“Follow me to my office. By the way, I am Dhaval, the leader of all Urthmen.” Dhaval sets off at a brisk pace down a long hallway of gleaming hardwood in a color that matches the front door of his house. Armarius lumbers behind him, and Sully and I follow. At the end of the hallway is a door with a crest carved at its center. Intricately etched into the wood is a creature with its wings outstretched, poised as if flying heavenward, with a branch in its beak. The image is striking and resembles a dove, a bird that mates for life, is incredibly loyal and cares for its young. For centuries the dove has been viewed as an honorable, dedicated and peaceable bird. As a result, history held it as a symbol of peace. I wonder whether Dhaval knows this and selected it for that reason. I certainly hope he has, for peace between humans and Urthmen will be our salvation. It is how we will survive an all-out attack from the Uganna.
Beyond the ornate door is a large desk with two cushion covered chairs in front of it and one behind it. Dhaval seats himself behind the desk then invites Sully and me to sit before him. Armarius stands sentinel beside his leader. Dhaval folds his hands in front of him and places them atop his desk. His posture, like his clothing, is flawless. For the first time in my life, I’m impressed with an Urthman. His demeanor, the calm and control he exudes is nothing shy of stately. “Your reputation precedes you, Azlyn. I must admit I’m surprised to see you here, in Agroth.” He trains his piercing gaze on me. “Now, what is it you wish to speak to me about?”
After a quick glance at Sully, I return my attention to Dhaval, whose eyes have not wavered from my face. Squirming a bit under the weight of his stare, I clear my throat then say, “We have come to you to ask for your help.”
The space where his eyebrows should reside lowers and deep creases pleat it. “You’ve come to me for help? Why would I be interested in helping you?” His tone is neither confrontational nor aggressive. To the contrary, it is offhand.
Luc, who straggled in several moments after us, chimes in, “I have brought them here because we need to help each other.”
Tipping his chin and looking over our heads at Luc, Dhaval drills him with a hard gaze. “I wasn’t speaking to you, cousin. I was speaking to Azlyn and her friend.”
Luc clamps his lips shut and lowers his head.
Dhaval continues to bore a hole in his cousin’s head with his eyes for several beats before he levels them our way once again. “What is it you need our help with?”
Rolling my shoulders back, I straighten my posture. “The Uganna are here. They have wiped out one of our cities. They’ve also been killing off small Urthmen villages. His was destroyed.” I gesture to Peter who stands beside Luc.
Dhaval’s eyes are twin laser beams that sear through us and land on Peter. “Is this true?”
Peter nods. “It is true. They even feed on our people, then captured and caged more of us to consume later.”
Dhaval sits back in his seat, his shoulders dropping as he turns his chair slightly askew. His keen gaze grows distant, pensive.
“After they’re through with us,” Sully gestures among Peter, Luc and me, “they’ll be coming for you. If we fight together, side by side, we can beat them.”
Dhaval swivels in his chair so that he faces only Sully. “We can beat them on our own,” he says simply.
“Cousin, there are hundreds of thousands of Uganna. This is our best chance. Trust me,” Luc pleads.
“I don’t recall asking for your counsel, cousin,” Dhaval says sharply.
Luc’s jaw drops and he shakes his head as if uncertain of what just transpired. “I-I’m sorry,” he mutters as bands of pink streak his cheeks.
“How would it look if I told my people that we were going to fight side by side with humans, the very humans who overtook our cities and slaughtered our people?” Dhaval’s gaze vacillates between Sully and me, searching our faces as if we should completely understand what he means. While he has a point, the lives of his people are on the line. That supersedes all else.
“It doesn’t matter how it looks,” I say and do not bother to curb my temper. Dhaval is allowing foolish pride to take precedence over survival, a detail that is so incredibly idiotic I could cry.
Pursing his virtually nonexistent lips, Dhaval narrows his eyes. “I’m sorry you wasted your time coming here. You should return to your city and prepare for what I imagine will be a difficult battle.” His disinterest in our fate is maddening. “I’ll allow you safe passage out of Agroth, but I cannot help you.”
Rising to my feet, my voice rises. “It’s in your best interest to help. I don’t understand! Your stubbornness will lead to the death of all of your people. Don’t you get that?” My heart is pounding and my mind is whirling around his words, his flagrant disregard for his city and its inhabitants.
“Silence!” he shouts and slams his hand upon the table. “My people will be ready when the Uganna come. The Uganna will die here.”
Shaking my head and furrowing my brow, I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “I thought you were reasonable, that it was you who ordered the truces between humans and Urthmen.”
“I did. I ordered the truce. Not killing each other and fighting side by side are two very different things.” He inhales deeply. “I suggest you get moving before I change my mind about granting you a safe exit,” he says tightly. Standing, he doesn’t look at any of us. He simply leaves the room, stunned to silence so thick a pin could be heard dropping. Armarius follows after him.
After several moments, I whirl on Luc. “Thanks a lot,” I hiss. “This was a waste of time we don’t have.”
Luc’s features gather. “I’m sorry. I thought things would go differently. I never thought he’d refuse us.”
“Well he did,” I say dejectedly. Resting my elbows on my knees, I take my head in my hands and rub my temples. Sully rubs my back in a large circular pattern. His touch, while soothing, doesn’t ease the worry that bunches the muscles of my neck and shoulders.
“We’d better get back now,” Sully says softly.
I stand slowly and we retrace our steps to the front door. The five guards from the gate meet us and guide us back through the crowded streets of Agroth. Once we reach our vehicle and climb inside, I lower my window and watch as the gate parts. A familiar face is suddenly in front of mine. “Good-bye, Azlyn. I’ll see you soon,” Armarius threatens, his voice a low growl.
Though I try to ignore him, to dismiss his threat, deep in my marrow, I know we’ll meet again. I force myself to push any future encounters with him to the back of my mind. Cassowary is in danger, a swarm of Uganna plotting to storm it and destroy all who cross their path. I worry that all hope is lost.