The Hidden Land

By Jim Doran

An enormous shadow crossed the plain, extending its darkness in every direction. Eclipsing the warmth of the sun, the object above blocked the light, painting bushes and wild scrub black. The rear portion of the shadow rolled forward like a curtain, forming a visible line between day and night.

The preschooler blinked at the rapid change of light, mouth agape. Her elderly companion, Markado, knew she had witnessed it hundreds of times, but the sight never failed to cause her to stop and stare.

“Liliana, catch up. You want to be there when your mother arrives, don’t you?”

The girl hoofed next to her guardian, and the two centaurs continued their journey. Markado trotted along, swatting flies away with his tail.

He took Liliana’s hand and squeezed it. Though a darker shade on her horse portion, Liliana’s tangled hair was the same color his had once been, the same color as her mother, Rebecca’s…

We lost contact with Rebecca in Venezuela. Seven words from the agency representative earlier today which had chilled his heart.

“How much farther, Peepaw?”

Markado shook his head as if to dispel the bad news. “Not far.”

Liliana snorted. “Why does she have to go away?”

“Well, my dear, it has to do with our history.”

They sauntered toward a hill at the end of the plain. Liliana hurried to keep up with her grandfather’s longer legs. “The cataclysm?”

Markado said, “Indeed. The time we left the humans and gathered here.”

Her head tilted. “But why did we leave?”

“We centaurs—and the other species hidden from the outside world—were stewards of the Earth.” The older centaur paused for effect. “We had a job to do. But the cataclysm was a sign our time was over. In the past, centaurs, fauns, and others used to protect the animal kingdom from humans.”

“I have a neighbor who is a faun. Her name’s Drury. Isn’t that a funny name?”

Peepaw winked at his granddaughter. “It is. Has your mother explained the concept of those who have fallen and those who haven’t?”

Liliana let go of her peepaw’s hand. “Like falling off a cliff?”

“No matter. We aren’t tempted as humans are. And it became clear a cataclysm was coming where we centaurs, naiads, barkerbusters, and all intelligent creatures had to leave. We immigrated here, keeping it secret. The journey cost us plenty, but—Liliana, are you paying attention?”

Liliana giggled. “Look, a butterfly landed on my nose.”

“Because animals aren’t afraid of us.” The elderly centaur gently stroked the insect’s wings. “They view us as their guardians. Same as you see your parents.”

Liliana wrinkled her nose. “Shoo now.”

She’s so innocent. The agency didn’t know whether her mother, Rebecca, made it to the transport. Protocol prevented further communication.

The butterfly lifted off and meandered on its way. Markado patted Liliana’s shoulder, and she leaned her head toward him. “What happened next?”

“You were listening?”

“Uh-huh.”

The wrinkles around Markado’s eyes deepened. “Not all of us agreed to congregate here. Some claimed their duty remained to live among humans. They promised to keep hidden.”

“But what has this to do with Mama?”

A sound behind them distracted Liliana, and she glanced over her shoulder. In moments, the darkness obnubilated the plain around them again. The land was shrouded for twenty seconds until the sun emerged once more.

They approached the hill. “Your mother rescues people. She can shapeshift from four legs to two, appearing human. Traveling around the world, she brings back our kind who are suffering.”

The two of them ascended the slope—the youth choosing the well-trodden path. “Mama’s a hero then?”

“Of course! She risks her life every time she goes into the field. As your father once did before he was injured.”

Liliana furrowed her brow. “But why doesn’t anyone follow her back here? Why don’t they know about Elysium?”

“They believe Elysium, or what they call Atlantis, sank years ago.” The aging centaur spread his arms. “Long ago, we cast an illusion to make them think it dropped into the sea. The illusion has held despite all their technological advances. They sail above us, thinking they float on water.”

The girl squinted at the massive ocean liner that had passed overhead. The ship hovered above the water. “But don’t they realize they are lifting off the ground?”

“Just a swell of the ocean.” Markado made a motion of water rising and falling. “And when they use their methods to explore the deep waters, they see right through us. Elysium is safe.”

When they crested the hill, a compact, silver shuttle on a landing pad came into view. Liliana galloped toward it, leaving her grandfather behind. She rushed across the rocky ground as the door to the ten-seater opened while figures peered out the windows. Some resembled humans; most did not.

Please let her be here.

One passenger after another emerged. And then…

Rebecca disembarked.

Liliana and Rebecca rushed to each other and embraced. Rebecca’s cheeks were wet with tears. “Honey.”

“Did you save the minotaur in Mexico and the faun in Nova Scotia? What about the rakshasa?”

“I did.”

Markado strolled up and embraced them both. “Last time, Rebecca?”

Rebecca’s back hoof pawed the ground. “For a stretch. Still need to find that dryad in Shadow Oaks, though.”

Rebecca’s holy grail. “Daughter, I thought you might retire.”

“One more, Dad.” Rebecca kissed her daughter’s cheek. “But for now, I’m home.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jim Doran is a genre writer who enjoys transporting his readers to unique destinations filled with wonder… or danger. Whether it’s the fairytale hijinks in his Kingdom Fantasy series or his multi-genre short stories, Jim aims to entertain his audience with every word. When he’s not writing, he’s usually enjoying the seasons in Michigan. His website contains illustrations from his Havok stories.

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