1st 5 Pages June Workshop - Tran Rev 1

Name: Teresa Tran
Genre: Young Adult Fantasy
Title: Fortox

Imara believed there were three types of dawn.

‘To the Compeer of the Fortoxes, my most reverent greeting,’

The first dawn came when twilight just began, the perpetual blanket of darkness touched again by a hazy cascade of purples and blues. The catalyst to Imara’s race against time, as if the day was already running and she was panting, panting, panting to catch up, all the while trying not to trip on her own two feet.

‘Because you know and I know that the Fortoxes have never been one to be forward. Or to bother taking part with the rest of Realiswefn. But let me not mistake your people’s idleness these past eighteen years as an ample version of generosity.’

The second shade of dawn was a shy pale light peeking through the folds of the Cyan sea and a sky full of stars, a sudden flare of energy and brightness that shined over the entire world of Realiswefn as if saying I am coming. Prepare for me.

‘I am not a patient person. But I believe there is more you and your people can offer. I seek your help with an issue if it is within your capability to do so.’

And last, though she told no one, the third shade of dawn and Imara’s favorite was the one that bathed the world in orange light, with soft strokes of yellow, gold and red, where it blended with the jungles that wrapped its’ vines across the realm. It somehow always made Imara feel restless and alive like she had better spit out words before they got caught in her throat or accomplish something grand and spectacular. Possibilities became more than just possible. They became tangible.

‘This cannot wait until the next letter I will no doubt send to plead on behalf of all of Realiswefn. If you have any care for the world you live in, that you are a part of, meet me before sunrise tomorrow, as time has no longer been generous. You know where the wind is harsher and the dust is thinner.

Queen Kepi of the Violets, the people of air’

Leaning on one side of a black stone arch, Imara felt a cold breeze whip at her skin, causing her to shiver slightly. Yet, she did not draw her cloak tighter around her. Instead, she let the wind rustle her dark locs, billow the midnight fabric behind her, and clear her head.

“What do you make of the letter, General?” Imara asked.

Imara and her second-in-command were standing at the highest point of a citadel carved from one of the many tall mountains that surrounded their people’s lands. Where windows should have been, the arches that gave the fortress its’ structure framed out to open space. Imara reminded herself that it was okay to indulge once in a while as she looked to see the world laid out before her, where the finishing layers of dawn transitioned to a luminous morning.

The female warrior next to Imara, sheltered in her leather flaps and a similar cloak, sighed audibly. “How many letters have you received?”

“This was the twelfth. The Violet Queen has sent a letter practically every two hours. The storm that accompanied them has not stopped pounding on my window since.”

The Violets are such dramatics, Imara thought. The Queen especially.

After she’d read the letter, Imara considered her options. One: she could ignore the plea written so plainly in bold black ink. Two: she could send a letter back, (one was sufficient), made of shadows and reeking of death, just for pure entertainment. Imara would beg to see the kind of reaction that would produce. Or three: she could go see for herself what all the fuss was about.

If Imara had her way, she would shed her cloak and leave for the nearest town where responsibility did not exist and adventure awaited. But this letter nagged at her, tugged at her edges, begging to be answered, to be addressed.

“Those bastard leaders have been trying to glimpse a Fortox for the past eighteen years, Compeer. These letters could be no different; another desperate attempt to reel you out from the depths of the shadows and to come out into the light. It would not be wise to help them.”

“You mean it would not be wise to risk our people for the sake of everyone else’s,” Imara said.

“There will always be risk. If the reputation that precedes the Fortoxes has any say in how people treat us. But if is indeed a trick, bait made especially for you… we will not be wholly unprepared in the manner of defense. You have assured that, have you not?”

Imara looked down and flexed her hand, a ring gleaming on one of her long fingers, the black band a shade darker than her skin. Etched into the band was a symbol of two hands covered in shadows outstretched from a gray mountain. Her reminder. Her promise.

When Imara looked back up, her General was looking at her with hard, analyzing eyes; tracking Imara’s every single movement, the way she had looked at her ring. They had a way to peer into anyone’s soul and pluck out all the answers. And afterwards, the soul would be left as a blubbering mess. Bare.

“So when are you leaving?” Her General asked.

“How do you know that I –?”

“I am no fool, Imara. I see the look on your face. You have already made up your mind, despite the consequences.”

Imara opened her mouth to protest, but closed it in resignation. “These letters are different. Something is wrong, something not even our spies know about. If the Violet Queen does not lie, then it is my duty as Compeer of the Fortoxes to do whatever I can to help. I leave now.” Imara’s General hesitated, then nodded.

“Will you need me?”

“I’ll always need you.”

“You know what I mean.” A small rise of emotion in her General’s impenetrable voice was clear.

“I will call for you when necessary. I think it is best for me to go alone. Two Fortoxes on foreign soil so early in the morning cannot be good for the digestion.” Imara said.

One corner of her General’s mouth twitched. “No, perhaps not.”

As the two women stood there in comfortable silence, observing the range of mountains that lay in the far distance, cutting through gray fog, Imara’s General did not need to remind her to be careful. Leaving the safety of their fortress to eavesdrop on the workings of Realiswefn was one thing, to reveal that the Fortoxes were active this entire time was quite another. But her General was correct when it came to their abilities. They were tasked with a different sort of arsenal compared to everyone else’s. There was no need to worry, at least not now.

“The Fortress will hold?” Imara asked.

“The Fortress will hold,” her General repeated quietly, firmly. She stepped back to give Imara room.

Looking back one last time at her land, her home, a coil of unease clenched Imara’s stomach. And yet, there it was, beneath the fear, a thrill of anticipation.

I am coming. Prepare for me.

Without another word to her General, Imara rolled her shoulders. Her shadow began to writhe and expand before it wrapped its’ entirety around her body, blending in with her cloak and Imara vanished. Not a slice of darkness left behind.