Chapter Text
- 2 weeks later -
Zanka had said his final goodbyes to those in Valle as he set off to find the Maara tribe of warrior women. Enjin all but laughed at the alpha prince after he requested an escort.
The tribe was located deep in the mountains of Valle. It would take him three days by foot, a trek Zanka had no intentions of completing.
After Enjin’s laughter had subsided, he explained that no horse or carriage could make it through. Zanka knew that was a lie, but arguing with Enjin was futile. He was more absolute in his words and decisions more as a mother than he was as his older brother. Without a peep or complaint Zanka was gone.
He made sure to travel light, with his staff attached firmly to his back as he left just before dawn and was out of the capital by sunrise.
The prince stopped to look around and assess his surroundings, as well as take a look at his map. A wooden sign stood a few feet ahead with similar planks pointing North to Solstice, North East to Lyra, and West back to Valle.
Zanka looked between the three signs, searching for the fourth that led towards the Maara. With a bit of searching and tugging of grass and bushes, the prince finally found a small wooden sign that led North West down a beaten path. He took a breath as he stepped forward, following the trail for as long as he could, periodically stopping to check his map and catch his breath.
While Zanka walked, he took a few moments to stop and appreciate nature the way his lover did. He sniffed flowers, touched leaves and nodded his head at woodland creatures who gazed upon the stranger in their home.
-
Three days stretched to five as Zanka made his last way uphill. His map showed a mile before he reached the village and there was no way he was going to stop now. He breathed a sigh of relief as he wiped sweat from his brow. He had finally reached the top, and he could see smoke coming from wooden houses.
His feet ached, his legs were sore and he was covered in sweat, dirt and grime.
With confidence, the alpha prince walked ahead with his eyes closed. He could almost feel the warmth of soapy water cover his body as he misstepped on a pile of leaves. Down he went as he screamed loudly, dropping ten feet below the ground on a bed of moss and grass. Reflexively, he reached behind him to grab at his staff as he let out shaky breaths.
“Where the hell?” He muttered as he looked up to see a young woman with long blonde hair and a straw hat peering down at him from the top of the pitfall.
“Welcome Prince Zanka Nijiku. We’ve heard from King Enjin that you were coming, but you took so long, we thought you might have gotten lost. Looks like you found us after all. Consider this your first training task. Get yourself out that hole and meet me in the west village. I’ll be waiting at the cabin made of red wood.”
Within a blink of an eye, the mysterious woman was gone and Zanka was left to stare at a piece of parchment that floated listlessly towards him. He grabbed at it with wide eyes as he stared at the map of the Maara village. From what he could see, he was just outside the main capital. He could scream for help. Have someone drop a rope and help him climb to the top, but that seemed far too easy.
He might as well turn back and go home if he was having such thoughts.
He sat in bewilderment, wondering if Enjin had asked them to pull a sick joke before he started his training. Once an hour or so had passed, Zanka realized no one was coming to save him, and that this was not a joke, but a trial run. He had to prove himself.
He first raised his staff, seeing if it was long enough to reach out of the hole and into the dirt. When that didn’t work, he neatly tied his staff to his back and tried to climb his way out. Despite his best efforts he continuously slipped. He couldn't find the right rock to place his foot, and his palms were too sweaty to hold his weight.
Time and time again he fell, and with each try he grew more desperate.
Frustrated and annoyed, Zanka threw his staff and himself to the ground. He bit his nails harshly as the metallic taste of blood touched his tongue. He tore at the skin as he muttered quietly.
“I’m weak… is that what this is?” He asked himself as he lapped at his bleeding fingers.
Failure had Zanka rooted to the ground as the sun dipped past the horizon. Cicadas sung their nightly tune as he laid his head against his knees. He never gave up so easily, but he felt as if the task at hand was impossible. Tears pricked the corner of his eyes as months of stress, and anxiety finally caught up to him.
He was tired of pretending everything was fine and under control. His kingdom was slowly descending into madness the longer he was gone, and public opinion was starting to sway for Tamsy and his outrageous claims to overthrow the current prince. Not to mention the fact that Riyo couldn't find Tamsy.
The man could be anywhere. Was he prepared to face him? Could he really defeat him if he tried?
Tamsy had already gotten him once before. Did he have the capacity to face someone so mentally strong and physically agile? Someone who was bestowed a gift by both the heavens and hell?
Zanka clutched at his hair and pulled at his strands as his thoughts spiraled. Tears streamed down dirty cheeks while Zanka assessed his odds. He was a jack of all trades, but no master of one. He wasn’t like Enjin, who knew what to say and how to lead others to do great things. Or Jabber, who knew so much about poisons, hallucinogens, and plants. He was just an average alpha who worked for what he wanted.
Knowledge. Poise. Grace. Intelligence. Diction. He had that. He had tenacity. He had passion. He had resolve and he damn sure had a will to live. He was more than just a stuffy alpha that was locked away in a castle. Zanka had to get out of that hole and make it to that cabin.
Determination and adrenaline rushed over Zanka as he felt his heart skip a beat. Hs body hummed as his staff vibrated faintly a few feet away from him. He reached out towards it, tracing its spine with his fingertips as he grabbed it. He brought it close to his chest, scenting the object until nothing of the Earth and simply him. Glowing blue eyes eyed the staff for any new scraps or marks as he spoke to it gently.
“Sorry for taking my frustration out on you.” He whispered as he gave his staff a small kiss.
Once the shared vibrations subsided and Zanka no longer felt on edge, he decided to try again. He retied his staff to his back before reaching down to grab at rock, dirt and soil. He rubbed the matter between his hands to roughen his palms before taking a deep breath.
He used the moon's light to look for any protruding rocks, remembering which ones were sturdy and which to avoid. He started his ascent slowly, his grasp slipping now and again as his palms started to grow sweaty. Zanka bit his lip as his spoke a silent mantra of ‘just a bit further.’
Finally, he felt the cool night breeze as he reached a hand up and grabbed at a pile of dirt. With as much effort as he could muster, Zanka hoisted himself up and out of the hole he was once stuck in. He took a deep breath as he laid on his back to stare at the moon. He laughed to himself as a sense of accomplishment settled deep within him.
Exhaustion found its way around Zanka’s body as he tried to pull himself to his feet. With every step he took, he fell once again from exhaustion. He couldn't continue his walk even if he tried.
Deciding that the forest floor would be his bed once more, he settled in a pile of leaves and looked at the moon with silent victory. For the first time in his life, he did something without the help of others, and he was proud.