Amazonia - Secrets of the Shadowlands

I’ve always wondered about the Shadowlands, and why the Shadow creatures who prowl it are so bent on killing anyone who enters. Now, though, I’m beginning to understand.

I’m holding onto the bony ridges I can feel underneath Wind Dancer’s soft feathers, as we travel across a great expanse of rolling hills and lush vegetation, the sky the deepest blue I’ve ever known, with neither clouds or sun to be seen. The air’s crisp but not cold, my body, still wearing the Artifact armor I’d had on when I died, neither hungry or thirsty. Nor do I need to use the privy, even though we’ve been flying for what must be hours.

My muscles and hands should be fatigued from riding for so long. Yet, they’re not. I’m not sad at losing my life, nor angry for failing my mission; I’m not upset over losing the Rune sword, nor even missing my Wardogs in the least. Right now, I’m not feeling anything except happiness at being exactly where I am.

Happiness. I don’t believe I’ve ever understood what happiness, true happiness, means. But now I do, and I’m never leaving the Shadowlands. Not if I can help it.

“Az,” Wind Dancer says as she glances back, “are you doing alright back there?”

“Never better.” My insides give a twinge, and I frown. “Actually, I’m getting an odd feeling of hollowness, like my body’s starting to need something. Is that normal?”

“It is,” she replies, “and I know exactly what you need to to fix it. Hang on.” Wind Dancer banks, and we descend towards the top of a hill where a golden tree’s standing… no, it only looks like a tree. As she lands on the grass a half-dozen horse lengths away, I can see it’s golden smoke in the shape of a many branched tree.

Tendrils of golden mist are floating in the air around it, and as one changes direction to move straight towards me, Wind Dancer says, “When the smoke gets close to you, go ahead and breathe it in. You’ll feel better at once.”

“Breathe it in?” Her narrow head nods. I’m a little dubious, but as the golden tendril gets close to my face, I let go of the bony ridges, lean forward, open my mouth, and inhale.

The tendril tastes like Etruscan red wine. No, better than wine; it’s as if I’m drinking ambrosia like the gods did in the old legends. I suck in the entire tendril and the hollow feeling vanishes. Now I’m feeling solid, but I’m also feeling something else. “Wind Dancer, I think I’m drunk!”

Before she can reply, I slide off her back and hit the ground. The earth yields, the grass soft as goose down as it bounces me upward a little before settling. I laugh at myself, giddy as a child, and Wind Dancer’s giggling as she turns around. “Apologies. I forgot what the first time being fed is like. Rest here for a few moments and it should pass.”

I nod, draw my armored knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them. “I think that’s helping.”

“I thought it would.” Wind Dancer moves until she beside me and settles in, wrapping her wing around me in a protective way. “Since we will be here for a little bit, we can talk. I know you must be curious about the Shadowlands.”

“I’m also curious about you,” I reply. “I don’t mean to be rude or pry into your past, but I’d like to know how you got here.”

“The same way we all did,” she answers. “To understand my story, let me first tell you a secret. At the heart of the Shadowlands, there is the One Earth from which all the other Earths take their form, with the Shadowlands connecting each to all the others.”

I rear back. “One Earth… meaning my world isn’t real?”

Wind Dancer shakes her head. “Oh, it is real, just not in the same way the One Earth is. For example, any Shadow-walker or powerful magic user can enter the Shadowlands and exit into any other world except the One Earth. There, the walls between it and the Shadowlands are so strong, that only the most insanely powerful mages can enter, and only at rare times when the walls between the worlds are at their weakest.”

I scratch my head. “How do you know this?”

“Because one of the Wise Women met a ghost in the Grey who did it. He had been so powerful that the being had almost god-like powers, but once he entered the One Earth, he became fragile and sickly. Then, when he finally managed to leave, the return trip destroyed his mortal body, leaving him a ghost. She helped him find his world and, still in his ghostly form, leave the Shadowlands, and in return he told her what the One Earth was like. There are no other races except humans, and they are so filled with magic that they cannot use it.”

I give Wind Dancer a cross look. “You’re making that up.”

“I swear it is the truth. Think of it this way: you need… apologies, needed, water to stay alive when you were a living person, right?” I nod, and she says, “But what would happen if you were placed in a pool of water with no way to get out?”

“Since I can’t breathe water, I’d drown.”

“Because the water is all around you. Think of working magic in the same way. The humans there are literally drowning in magic, and thus cannot use any of it. A few of the Wise Women believe this is how the Shadowlands were created, though others have different ideas.”

I frowned. “You mean they don’t know?”

Wind Dancer gave a derisive snort. “Oh, they think they do. Some believe One Earth is alive but sleeping, and the Shadowlands are one, long dream. Others think the Grey was created out of the dreams of its humans, while others believe One Earth has a god or gods who created everything. If you are ever feeling mischievous, ask a group of them what created the Grey. You will have them squabbling in no time.”

I’ve no intention of doing anything that could get me banished from here, and instead ask, “Where do they live? Are there cities here?”

She shakes her head. “The only cities are the ruins in the Grey that are built out of stone. We live wherever we want, traveling the Shadowlands and guarding it against the intruders.” She pauses. “There is one building you need to be wary of. The Wise Women tell us that, lurking within the Shadowlands, is a structure known as the Tower of Time, and if you climb it, you can see the possible future for any of the Earths.”

“Have you ever climbed it?”

Wind Dancer shakes her head. “The Wise women know where it is, but since they no longer have any desire to see the worlds they originally came from, they leave it alone, as do the rest of us. I tell you this because thousands of your world’s years ago, a Shadow Knight like yourself entered there and never returned. No one knows why, and I do not want that to happen to you.”

I shake my head. “Me neither. I don’t want to ever leave this place.”

“Good. As for me, on my old Earth there are a race of beings who look exactly like I do, and they co-exist with other races, including humans like the ones on your old world… well, not exactly humans. Close enough to be related, though.”

“Did this race of almost humans have the same capacity for evil that my race does?”

Wind Dancer sighs. “In some ways, their capacity was far greater than your own. From the Wise Woman who sent me to find you, I learned the tale of your becoming a slave, who was eventually forced to become a Shadow Knight.” The tip of her other wing touches her breast. “I was corrupted in a similar manner.”

“Until you died like I did, and found yourself here.”

She nods. “Where I discovered the truth. If you asked Ghostdog the Shadow-walker, he would tell you what we see is illusion, and the mortal’s view of the Shadowlands is real. Yet, how can he be sure when neither he, nor anyone else except us, see what see and feel what we feel? A few Wise Women claim both versions of the Shadowlands are true, but so what?” Her long claws squeeze the ground beneath our feet. “To me, the Shadowlands are Paradise. Nothing else matters.”

Then eyes the color of the cloudless, sunless, sky above us, lock onto mine. “Since we are speaking of Shadow-walkers, the same Wise Woman who bid me find you, also told me the story of your making an oath-bond with Ghostdog’s son, to have him rescue you and bring you back to their version of Earth.”

Guilt stabs like a dagger through my heart. “Wind Dancer, I’m so sorry I ever did that. I thought being trapped in the Shadowlands would be like being cast into Hel’s underworld; if I’d realized it was more like living in a paradise, I would’ve never done it.”

Wind Dancer gently presses me against her feathered body with her wing. “No one blames you for what you did,” she says as she lets me go. “To be honest, if a Shadow-walker had made such an offer to my corrupted self, I would have accepted his help without a second thought. But now we both know better.”

I smile up at her. “We do. Where’s this Wise Woman I’m supposed to meet?”

“On an island far to the north of here. She told me there is a way for you to break this oath before the Shadow-walker comes looking for you, though she did not tell me what it was. She told me she needs to speak with you herself.”

“Is the rest of the journey far?”

Wind Dancer shrugs. “Your mortal self would think so, but when you scarcely feel the passage of time, nothing is far. Are you ready to travel?”

I climb to my feet. “I’m not feeling drunk anymore, so I guess I am.”

“Then let us depart.” I climb back onto her back and settle in, holding on tight to the bony ridges as her muscles tense.

Wind Dancer launches herself skyward, the golden tree of mist shrinking rapidly behind us as she gains altitude, and a few moments later we’re soaring again.