A Manticore in the Paddock

A wave of horror threatened to betray Jianna as she tilted her head back to meet the beast’s enormous, fathomless pools of black. The creature, in turn, seemed to regard her with an unnerving and placid curiosity.

The Council had granted her a few days' respite at the Kaur-Koram palace to recover from the rigors of her journey. During her recuperation, the small company she traveled with fell into their own routines. Flitterwing, ever restless, had taken to engaging Queen Dawnstrider in mock duels during the monarch’s leisure hours, their spars a dazzling spectacle of light and velocity. Blynn, true to form, had melted into the palace’s shadowed recesses and dim corners, making a concerted effort to be as inconspicuous as a wisp of smoke. Malakor had simply vanished. The peace and relaxation of her brief sabbatical, however, were not destined to last. Before a week had passed, it was made apparent that the Council was anxious for her to begin her training with Asgath, and she found herself being gently but firmly prodded to prepare for her departure.

As if summoned by the very thought, Malakor had materialized from the gloom of her chambers that morning, his arrival as abrupt as his pronouncement. "You're leaving. Now. Get yourself to the stables."

Out on the cobblestones of the stable yard, the horse was now offering Jianna a distinctly doleful expression. She, in return, was attempting to muster the courage to climb aboard what looked less like an animal and more like a formidable mountain of sinew and bone.

"What's the matter?" Malakor’s voice cut through her thoughts. He stood with a firm grip on the reins of the large, dapple-coated gelding. She thought she detected a subtle note of amusement beneath his otherwise flat delivery. "Need a hand?"

"No," Jianna managed, striving to keep her voice steady. "He's just… immense! Can’t we walk?"

Malakor’s response was a single, sharp shake of his head. "Negative. The distance is too great to be made on foot, and Aria wants you trained as quickly as possible. Up you go."

Clutching the saddle horn, Jianna took a steadying breath that did little to calm the frantic fluttering in her chest. As a small concession to her nerves, she stepped onto the mounting block beside the horse before swinging a leg over its back, which suddenly felt even higher and broader than it had a moment ago. Once seated, she was ramrod straight, every muscle coiled with tension, her grip on the horn so tight that her knuckles shone white.

"So high!" she gasped, her wide, disbelieving eyes locked on the ground, which seemed impossibly distant. Spurred by her rigid posture and the desperate clenching of her legs against his barrel, the horse lurched forward. Malakor brought it to a jarring halt with a powerful tug on the reins. A small whimper escaped her lips as Jianna willed her heart to slow its frantic hammering.

"Relax," Malakor’s voice rumbled. "He won't harm you, girl. But he’ll bolt if you keep squeezing his ribs like that."

Though she refused to loosen her death grip on the horn, Jianna made a conscious effort to follow his command, forcing herself to slump slightly in the saddle. "Sorry," she said, managing a wobbly smile. "I've never been on a horse. I didn't realize they were so… large."

"If they weren’t, they wouldn't be much use to anyone," Malakor stated dryly. "Besides, you should count yourself lucky the Council gave you this dullard. They could have given you that one." He tilted his chin toward a nearby pasture. Following his gesture, Jianna could not suppress a gasp of pure astonishment.

Confined within the grassy enclosure, and watched warily by three nervous stablehands, was a creature that could have been torn from Jianna’s worst nightmares. Its body, the color of rich teak, was distinctly leonine, as were many of its facial features and its magnificent tawny mane. This was contradicted, however, by a long, segmented tail reminiscent of a scorpion's, which arched high over its back and terminated in a wicked-looking barb. Its head, though cat-like, bore scales around its eyes and nose, leading up to large, mobile ears that could have belonged to the very horse beneath her. Its most astonishing features, however, were its wings. They were impossibly vast, feathered in an intricate pattern of black, brown, and cream, with tips that brushed the ground even when the creature held them folded. The need for three handlers was obvious; even from Jianna’s vantage point, the beast's terrifying arsenal of needle-sharp teeth was visible as it lunged at any sudden movement, requiring two of the hands to frantically distract it while the third attempted to cast a lasso over its scaled neck.

"Wh-what in all the hells is that?" Jianna inquired, her voice a breathy whisper laced with both awe and terror.

"Manticore," Malakor said flatly. "Dumb as a bag of hammers, and they only let a select few ride them. But if you can handle one, they move like nothing else in this world. The mount of choice when speed is everything."

Shuddering, Jianna accepted the reins Malakor held out to her. The leather was an unfamiliar weight in her clumsy grasp. "That thing is an abomination," she commented. "I wouldn't go anywhere near it."

"Good," Malakor grunted. "Because if you did, and it didn't kill you, I would."

"Huh? Why?"

"'Cause someone that monumentally stupid doesn't deserve to pass on their genes."

"Ha, ha. Hilarious."

Jianna was not to travel alone. She had been assigned an escort of twelve soldiers from the Light Alliance, tasked with seeing her safely to the Dryad Groves. Malakor accompanied them as well, though he forwent a horse like the rest, choosing instead to travel in his own fashion—a fleeting shadow moving through the high boughs of the trees.

Jianna's knowledge of the Dryads, and Asgath in particular, remained frustratingly scant. When she had pressed Malakor for details, he had merely shrugged, remarking that no one knew much about them. His only certainty was that Asgath was the most formidable mage and seer in the entire In-Realm, and it was a blessing he remained affiliated with the Grey Factions.

It was then that Jianna realized how frequently Malakor and others used terms like "Light Alliance" and "Grey Factions," and she took the opportunity to ask for clarification.

The majority of the races in the In-Realm, he explained, were divided between two opposing factions: the Light Alliance and the Shadow Dominion. The names, he stressed, were purely political and had no bearing on physical appearance or other innate qualities. Both the Light Alliance and the Shadow Dominion maintained their own ruling councils and were locked in a state of perpetual conflict. Kaur-Koram served as the central seat of power for the Light Alliance, while the formidable Lady Zovira presided over the council of the Shadow Dominion. The Grey Factions comprised those races who refused to choose a side, though they might temporarily lend their support to one faction or the other before eventually renouncing the alliance and returning to their neutral standing. Malakor also noted that these terms had been coined by the Light Alliance; the other groups might use different designations for the divisions, or none at all.

The entire political landscape struck Jianna as convoluted and strange, but it appeared to function for the inhabitants of the In-Realm, so she held her tongue.

After three days of riding, Jianna was sore, stiff, exhausted, and profoundly bored. The initial novelty of being on horseback had worn off within a day, replaced by a dull ache and the crushing monotony of an endless procession of trees. The guards, a taciturn and grim-faced company, offered little in the way of conversation. Jianna kept mostly to herself, speaking only to Malakor on the rare occasions he dropped from the canopy and seemed amenable to answering a question.

On the afternoon of the third day, however, the procession ground to an unexpected halt. Confused, Jianna looked around, searching for the cause of the sudden stop.

As if in answer, the captain of the guard wheeled his mount around and trotted back toward her. In the same moment, Malakor dropped silently from the branches above to land at her side. The captain offered a crisp, formal salute upon his arrival.

"This is as far as we go," he stated, his expression unreadable. "Follow this path. You'll reach the Dryad Groves soon enough."

"How will I find Asgath?" Jianna asked, a knot of anxiety tightening in her stomach.

The captain merely shrugged, a flicker of boredom in his eyes. "I couldn't say. Ask the trees."

He then barked an order to his men. They pivoted their mounts and began the ride back the way they had come, their column splitting to flow around Jianna, Malakor, and the gelding. Once the three of them were alone on the path, with the rhythmic drumming of retreating hoofbeats fading into the forest's embrace, Jianna looked questioningly at Malakor.

"Don't look at me," he grumbled, pre-empting her question. "I don't know either."

"Then how am I supposed to find this man?" Jianna's control finally snapped, her voice rising, sharpened by a sudden surge of fear and exasperation. Beneath her, the gelding snorted and shifted uneasily at her outburst.

"Like the captain said: ask the trees," Malakor repeated, his tone devoid of sympathy. "I must be going. I have my own tasks to see to now that you're here, and I'm already late." And with that, he simply turned and was swallowed by the dense woods, leaving Jianna and her horse standing alone in the middle of the dirt track.

"You're always late for something," Jianna whispered into the sudden silence. With a profound sigh that seemed to carry the weight of all her exhaustion and fear, she pressed her knees gently into the horse’s sides. It began to walk, carrying her down the path and deeper into a territory that a dozen armed soldiers refused to enter.