210. The Hinterlands

  The Upheavers’ trek through the hinterlands was the calm after a storm had passed. With each passing Night, Serac became more anxious to find out if it might also be the calm before another storm.

  Past Veilwatch Hill, the Night-side Realm plateaued into a rolling highland. Grassy plains with smatterings of low thickets. A soul could be convinced the terrain was entirely flat, were it not for the Sanzu River dutifully rushing through its midst. The ‘rusty’ river’s steady flow was evidence enough of the gentle yet persistent gradient that led toward Tidereign’s peak—and the gloomy waterfall that slid from the skyveils beyond.

  Besides the coarse and muted beauty of the landscape, there really wasn’t much to occupy the four Wayfarers’ attention. Evidently, the Mrigas on the other side of the Realm continued to be as oath-abiding as ever. The Upheavers encountered exactly zero Aberrants on their journey, despite going out of their way to seek potential places of power.

  There were more than a few prospects. Occasionally, the group would come across stony debris and overgrown brick structures—what was left of long-abandoned settlements. None of the buildings were intact enough to act as ‘shelter’, however, nor were there any Breachspawns lying in wait. Functionally speaking, these remnants of a faded civilization might as well have been part of the wilderness.

  The ruins piqued Serac’s interest enough that she was tempted to explore more thoroughly. Perhaps veer off the ‘beaten path’ and tour the remote reaches of the Realm. But that would require the party to unlatch themselves from the constant landmark that was the Sanzu. With the cycles being as short as they were, it felt somehow irresponsible to take unmapped detours.

  “Would it have been faster to take your boat?” Serac asked Oriole on one such linear rumble along the riverbank.

  “The Cormorant? Maybe,” the tabbycat admitted, even as he continually sniffed the air that whipped past them at speed. He seemed just as enamored with Ash’s rooftop as Serac. “Not that it would’ve been a realistic option, mind you. Not with all the fuel that would’ve required.”

  And so, the Upheavers stuck to a stable, predictable route and routine. They took their time, giving themselves at least an hour each Night to stop, forage, cook, eat, reaffirm, and whatever else was needed to keep themselves healthy, [Moored], and [Oathbound]. Everything was simple and rather comfortable, especially in the company of a tight-knit party.

  And yet, everything also felt oddly empty. The world spread far and wide around Serac, yet her existence was limited to the short few hours per cycle and the narrow path she was forced to tread. It felt wasteful and unfulfilling, almost oppressively so. Indeed, the only thing keeping her mind intact was a clear sense of purpose. When in doubt, go up.

  By about the—ninth, tenth?—Night since their departure, the Upheavers made it close enough to the waterfall to note some of its features.

  The first and most surprising discovery was the presence of physical terrain behind and around the waterfall. In both Naraka and Pretjord, the runoff from the Realm above had flowed directly from the heavens and through the open sky. Here in Tidereign, the water appeared to run down a sheer wall, one that stretched the entire width of the horizon.

  “What do you think it is?” Serac asked no one in particular as she made herself comfortable next to a campfire—the Upheavers’ Nightly tradition at this point. She squinted to stare past the smoke, but from this distance, the ‘wall’ was nothing but a dark, blurry shadow.

  “Gotta be just some cliffs, no?” Zacko suggested with a shrug. “Believe it or not, flowing down the sky is not normal water behavior. Makes much more sense for there to be a solid surface.”

  “But assuming those are indeed cliffs,” Renna croaked, “that would imply the Realm continues beyond the waterfall. Granted, this is only my first ascension, but even I know that to be highly irregular. Is Tidereign an exception in that regard?”

  Renna had directed the question to the local guide. But out here, Oriole was just as lost and clueless as the rest of the party. He replied after a brief, multicellular pause.

  “Honestly, I don’t know. As you might imagine, Duskpool isn’t exactly a Wayfaring hotbed, and we’ve no known record of a Tiryaga making it all the way to ascension. I suppose Gladiolus”—Oriole trailed off for a moment, before continuing in a more subdued tone—“came closer than anyone, questionable methods notwithstanding. But as far as I know, even he never made it to the waterfall in his travels.”

  “Guess we’ll find out when we get there,” Serac murmured, still unable to take her eyes off the blurry shadows on the distant horizon.

  That was when the wind picked up, causing the campfire to jump and dance—and Serac’s horns to quiver to life. She tensed and scanned her surroundings, only to see the same wilderness that had stretched for Nights on end, as well as Zacko’s quizzical look.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Only… she hadn’t been alone in her reaction. Renna too seemed to have picked up something from the ripples, now casually dropping her hood to let her shark denticles breathe. Meanwhile, Oriole sat straighter and sniffed the air, as his pupils dilated against the darkness.

  “The best thing about being a Manusya,” Zacko quipped airily, “is I’m only expected to deal with the danger, not warn the group about it. What is it? What’s got y’all’s spidey-senses tingling?”

  Serac didn’t know anything about ‘spidey-senses’, not that it would’ve changed her answer. For the signals died down as quickly as they’d jumped up, too quick for her to make heads or tails of them. She waited for Renna to offer her expert opinion, but the Yaksha remained silent if somewhat pensive.

  “Oriole?” Serac asked. “You catch something with that nose of yours?”

  Oriole paused again, though looking a lot more hesitant and unicellular than earlier. He eventually shook his head no and didn’t elaborate. Serac squinted and watched him a while longer. The tabbycat’s dusky hazel eyes momentarily gave off a Pathsighted gleam, before the man himself sighed in visible relief.

  Hm. Serac kept the observation to herself.

  Were it not for the fast-approaching end to the cycle, the party might have split up and searched the area. As it stood, the safest thing to do was bunker in their living castle. If there indeed was another sentient soul in the vicinity, they too would soon be confined to their shelter.

  That Day, as with all Days, Serac slept soundly, save for the murky, lingering outline of a dream or nightmare or can’t-tell-which. Whatever it was, she couldn’t remember it at all when she woke the next Night. As for the strange signal from the previous Night, it had utterly gone with the moonrise, never to be read again.

  The party traveled on, the Nights cycled, and the horizon loomed larger and more solid. Fortuitously, the Upheavers’ approach coincided with the waxing of the moon. They were maybe one cycle away from reaching the foot of the waterfall when a near-full ocher moon shone upon the wall at the end of the Realm, as well as another ruin upon the riverbank.

  The latest abandoned settlement was more notable than most, not only for its size—perhaps large enough to be a small town—but also for signs of activity. Someone had camped here fairly recently, perhaps several turns of the moon before the Upheavers’ arrival. They left no marker as to their identity, but the list of potential suspects was exactly one name long.

  It seemed Gladiolus had ranged farther than Oriole had given him credit for. Whatever trick he’d used to survive the [Unmooring], it’d apparently afforded him the leisure to leave an anonymous note. A page torn from a notebook and secured in place with a brick, covered by tattered tarp to fend off the elements. Renna, [Oathbound] as she was to dredge up secrets every cycle, picked it up and read it aloud for the group.

  “If someone is reading this, either I’ve found a worthy assistant, or another Tiryaga has finally dared to venture beyond his means. Behold. Before you stands yet more evidence of the lies with which the Keeper has kept its horde of mewling kittens blind and docile. I’ve yet to devise how I might dissect the layers and expose the truth for all to see, but rest assured I will be back to do just that. In the meantime, remember: the answer is cloaked in shadows. Be the knife to cut through the Night.”

  The party received the message with collective silence. No words were needed. For the truth of Gladiolus’s words was plain for all to see, undeniable in size and scale, and bathed in corroded ocher.

  The sheer wall was as wide as the Realm and as tall as the heavens. It served at once as a vertical conduit for the Sanzu River and as a barrier to wall off Duskpoolers from the rest of the Realm. For the thing was clearly artificial—built from strange, unidentifiable materials that had been tarnished by age and reclaimed by the sprawling wilderness.

  It’s like the Gloaming mists all over again, was Serac’s first thought. Whatever the Keeper’s up to, it’s doing its darnedest to stay hidden! Still, I guess we ought to be encouraged. We’ve made it a lot farther than we could’ve from the Day-side, and at least this barrier is a physical one!

  “The answer is cloaked in shadows.” Renna broke the silence first, by repeating something she’d already read. “Strange. Wasn’t that exact phrase also found in Jasper aft’Hanafin’s letter?”

  “Yeah,” Serac murmured her agreement. “Although, I’m starting to doubt that letter actually came from Jasper.”

  At this, Oriole perked up, tearing his gaping gaze away from the wall.

  “You don’t mean—?”

  “Yeah,” Serac said again, nodding. “I originally assumed it was Jasper because her butterflies gave it to me, but I never actually saw who wrote and sent the letter. Maybe it was one of the Templars who wanted to tip me off about something. Can’t imagine who though. I only got to know two Templars well enough to be pen pals with them, and both were down in the trenches with me.”

  “If it was a Day-sider who wrote it,” Zacko chimed in, brow furrowed in a rare show of deep thought, “they would’ve been referring to their ‘Gloaming mists’ thing, yeah? Whereas Tiger Doc probably meant whatever he expected to find beyond the wall up ahead. Either way, we’re currently stuck in the middle of nowhere, having found exactly zero signs of anything or anyone resembling a Realm Immortal. It’s pretty obvious what we have to do now, isn’t it?”

  Zacko was right, of course. All four Wayfarers looked up again in unison, at the ‘pretty obvious’ obstacle in their way. It was one of those rare Nights where none of them required a deliberate act of reaffirmation. For their shared purpose was perfectly aligned with each of their [Oaths].

  Oriole’s nose honed in on an alien scent. Renna looked heavenward for the next secret for her to unbury. Zacko, as always, was happy to ebb and flow with the tides.

  As for Serac, she had no reason to say ‘no’. Her next thrill or spill (probably both, let’s face it) was hidden in the skies. And she had just the Steed to carry her there.

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