Inches before Angélio's back made contact with a pointy, thorn-covered tree, Roende grabbed him by the shoulder. Angélio exhaled a trembling breath. The near bone-crushing grip of the maralujo sent a wild bolt of pain shooting through the boy's body. But he didn't have much time to dwell on that. Roende picked the boy up like he was cradling a baby and flew straight down toward the leaf-covered ground.
"The cloak," Angélio said breathlessly, gesturing to the garment hanging from one of the thorny limbs scratching at the sky.
Roende uttered something in a tone that reminded Angélio of when his papá watches fútbol and the guy he's cheering for misses a goal he should've scored.
They landed on the jungle floor under the shade of massive, trees with mossy trunks.
"Ow," Angélio rubbed his sore shoulder.
"Give me the bracelet--now!" Roende demanded.
"But won't that make me invisible?" Angélio asked.
"That is entirely the point--give it here--hurry." The maralujo seemed like he was seconds away from ripping it off the boy's wrist.
"Here." Angélio took it off and faded from sight; the red bracelet appeared to be floating in midair.
Roende snatched it and stuffed up his shirt sleeve. "Hide behind that tree--now," he pointed to a bronze bark plant about two feet away. "And do not speak until they leave."
"Until who leaves?" Angélio asked, looking around but seeing no one else but Roende.
"Do as you are told--if you want to live," was the reply.
Angélio tried to swallow as he rushed over to the strange tree with the broad, peeling bark. He tripped over a root as he ducked behind the trunk.
Seconds later, two strapping maralujos dressed in deep purple clothing with feather-like texture, trimmed with black and gold landed near Roende. The ground shook when they touched down. Dried leaves blew everywhere, filling the air with their rustling songs.
The formidable pair wore golden helmets shaped like the head and beak of a large guacamayo escarlata (scarlet macaw). They carried colourful hexagonal shields with elaborate, knotted patterns painted on them in one hand. And in the other, they held swords with obsidian blades, etched with glowing symbols and wooden hilts, which resembled the macuahuitl of the Maya and Aztecs. Angélio remembered seeing those weapons during a school trip to the National Museum.
As the warriors stepped closer to Roende, their clothing clinked like jingling keys.
Roende bent his right arm in an L-shape and bowed his head. "Good afternoon, yumsitlos (sirs)," he said.
"Why are you here instead of preparing for the Procession of the Veiled Sun?" one of them said in a tone that was more command than question.
"Forgive me, yumsitlo (sir), but I am not from the city," Roende replied, keeping his head bowed. "I'm a villager on his way to get some milk for my elderly mother. We plan to attend the next Veiled Sun Procession to do honour to our Radiant Lady, may she ever rise."
"May she ever rise," the warriors said in unison.
"I have made note of your wings. See to it that you do attend next time," the other one said.
"We will, yumsitlo," Roende replied.
"Very well. Have you seen anyone else around these parts?" he asked, scanning the area.
Angélio covered his mouth, holding his breath when the warrior's piercing gaze fell on him like a battle axe.
"No, yumsitlo," Roende replied, stammering.
YOU ARE READING
Away to Realania (ONC 2023)
FantasyAngélio follows a glowing butterfly through a portal to an enchanted world where he'll have to find a way to save himself and an unsuspecting city from destruction. ...
