Sunborn Rising (13 page)

He pointed and said, “I can almost make out some boughs. Reminds me of when my mom took me to the Mangrove Loft. We visited the wading pools with the other Rugosics, and left the deeper ones for the swimmers—Bellbottoms, you know? But I was curious, and I snuck off to look at the deep pools. There were branches grown into them, Arboreals darting in and out. Looked like fun. Anyway though, the water was green, but otherwise it looked a lot like this.”

Barra wasn’t interested in the ceiling. She sat up and said, “I think we had the right idea already. Find a Great Trunk and climb.” Shrugging, she continued, “We found food, and I expect we’ll find more in other dens like this. Nothing left to do tonight but rest. Tomorrow, we hop from den to den until we find the Umberwood.”

Nodding, Tory said, “Yeah. Yeah, that could work. Maybe start thinking about saving some food too.”

Grimacing, she recalled how poorly her last attempt at weaving had turned out; the satchel she’d made fell apart the first time she’d used it. She said, “Ermm, we’ll have to figure that out I guess.”

Plicks’ legs jerked like he’d nodded off. He rolled onto his side and said, “Night.”

Barra and Tory took the cue, exchanged goodnights, and tried to get comfortable.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Their sleep broke many times as the night opened to day. The foreign sounds of the rootscape agitated their dreams, and the uncomfortable floor of the den kept them tossing and turning.

Daytime in the Loft wasn’t exactly bright, but the Root was worse—like the Loft wearing a shroud. There were few flowers, though some fungal blooms sprouted in the nooks where roots entangled or split. The mushrooms had shoots that sprung like hair from their caps and cast light from their tips, but not enough to see by. Instead, the bups’ vision relied on the faint mist that soaked the air, which lit the perilous rootscape but also obscured it. Barra did her best to guide them.

As they travelled, the alarms in Tory’s head kept going off. He was sure they were being followed, but whenever he looked, there was nothing. He suspected every shadow of hiding a threat. That wasn’t all he had to worry about either. Plicks had apparently worsened overnight so that now he muttered nonsense from time to time without explanation. The Kolalabat startled easily too, which only fueled Tory’s rampant imagination. The Rugosic kept a vigilant watch on his friend, and the wood.

The slimy boughs high above the floor of the Root were home to a variety of dens. None had a reflective ceiling like the first, though the woodwork of each did make unusual use of stones and metals. There were several food plants as well, but never in great quantity. Barra worried that when it came time to store some for the climb there wouldn’t be enough, but she tried not to think about it. Besides, not one of the bups was experienced enough to weave any of the bark fibers they’d found so far into anything useful. Barra kept a look out, hoping to spot a familiar willow or anything she could make into a satchel.

The passage of time was difficult to track. They hadn’t seen a dayflower, and couldn’t guess the time by changes in light. Regardless, eventually all three were sure evening was coming. They began seeking a shelter that would offer more comfort than the last. Approaching one of the largest dens they’d seen, Plicks took off running. “I’ll search this one!” he called back over his shoulder.

Barra and Tory raced after him and caught up to him inside the den. Barra scolded, “Don’t do that! We have to stick together.” She liked his attitude less and less, and wanted to snap him out of it. Everything she thought of saying just sounded mean, so she held her tongue.

The den they’d entered was large, with several doorways. Like everything else they’d seen at the Root, it was overgrown with vines, and the floor and walls were becoming unbound. Nevertheless, the den was accommodating.

Despite Barra’s warning, Plicks bounded off through one of the doorways into an adjoining room. He yelled back, “I think it’s a nestroom!”

Tory and Barra followed and found Plicks rolled up on some moss. Barra sniffed the air and said to Tory, “It doesn’t smell worse here than anywhere else.” She was tired after trekking all day, and willing to rest pretty much anywhere.

“I don’t like it,” Tory said while shaking his head slowly. “It’s so big. Right now, I gotta admit I kinda want the security of a neatly bound space. If we stay here, we’ll have to take turns keeping a look out.”

Plicks whined, “This is the safest place we’ve found! We need a break.”

Just as exhausted as everyone else, Tory said, “We just have to do some work to check it all out. That’s all I’m sayin’.”

“Great! I’ll check the nestrooms!” Plicks got up and left in a bolt of nervous energy.

Barra shrugged, and gestured for Tory to follow her. She said, “Let’s look around outside. See if we can guess how the bindings are going to work tonight. I don’t really know what time it is. Might be better to stay here, regardless. You know? Rather than get caught outside?”

“Whoa, what about him? You really want to leave him alone in here?” Tory asked.

“No, I don’t want to, but we have to talk… about him. We won’t go far. He’ll be okay,” she said. She added, “It’s not like there’s been an Arboreal alive down here in a million rings.”

Tory wasn’t worried about other Arboreals. Still, they hadn’t actually seen anything else to fear either. He followed her out, and they climbed the perimeter together. Tory called attention to several misshapen, obviously broken bindings, and guessed that several were missing, but saw nothing that worried him about the safety of the structure.

Certain they were out of Plicks’ earshot, Tory began, “There’s something wrong with him.”

Barra said, “Yeah, definitely. We gotta help him, but I don’t know what to do. He seems like he’s already given up.”

“He’ll figure it out. We just have to stay positive, and… I don’t know. He’ll be okay. We’re all going to be okay, right?” Tory asked.

“Hey, I’m scared too, but we gotta keep it together. We’re…,” she trailed off, distracted by something.

Tory thought Barra could use some help keeping it together, considering how she seemed just as edgy as the rest of them. He peered into the shadows trying to see whatever had distracted her.

Barra sniffed the air, and Tory could see her pupils grow so wide that the emerald of her irises disappeared.

“What is it?” Tory asked, but Barra was already running to the front of the den. He ran after her, but when he caught up she was already inside. He found her sniffing and dashing frenetically around the room. “Where’s…?” Tory didn’t finish the question.

Plicks was gone.

14. Extinguished

Fresh talon marks carved the floor, wood curling from the runs that ended at a far window. Tory leapt to the window and peered out, but saw nothing. Hanging half out the window he hissed to Barra, “Come on! Something dragged Plicks outta here! We gotta go after him!”

Barra’s pupils were swallowed by her emerald irises. She didn’t move. “There’s something awful out there,” she said. She sounded utterly lost.

Tory ran over to her. “That awful—whatever it is—has Plicks. We gotta go.”

Barra didn’t need to hear it from Tory. It didn’t matter who or what took Plicks, they had to go after him. Her head was achy, her thoughts fuzzy. Barra was overcome with guilt.

Reading her face, Tory firmly said, “When we find Plicks, we can both tell him how sorry we are.”

She nodded. Focusing, she sniffed the room one more time. Confident she’d identified the mingled scent of Plicks and his captors, she jumped out the window following the trail with Tory close behind.

They alternated between racing and crawling, and refused to rest. Barra’s nostrils pulsed rapidly, into the air, along branches, hovering over any surface with a hint of Plicks’ passage on it. She kept them going, and Tory stayed close and alert. As it turned out, the trail was more than distinctive, it was pungent. The stench was difficult to breathe, and after a short while, Barra became dizzy from the fumes. She had to stop frequently to keep from passing out. She started believing the trail was purposefully rank, as a deterrent. Sure, it was easy to follow, but who would want to?

Every time they stopped, Barra worried Plicks was slipping away from them. She couldn’t let him disappear. They kept on his trail even though her body ached for rest. She tried to forget the stress wearing her down, but each passing measure of time was a painful reminder.

They found a grown-over, derelict pathwood and followed it down. All around them were empty dens, like an abandoned Nest. The dwellings seemed to sprawl endlessly in every direction. Barra thought the number of dens could support a greater population of Arboreals than any Loft she knew, even the Umberwood, and that made the emptiness and ruin even more unsettling.

Overgrowths of jagged, twisting brambles choked the pathwood they travelled into dangerous, narrow sections. They were careful to avoid the dark vine which seemed to grow everywhere, its flat, hooked thorns carving up the open spaces. Barra still hadn’t told Tory that she suspected it was the Creepervine. He’d read the passage about her father’s infected cut, and she didn’t want him connecting the dots. Rescuing Plicks was all that mattered. The gash on Barra’s arm was merely a throbbing reminder to stay far away from the thorns.

The pathwood eventually bottomed out, twisting into the intertwined boughs of the Root. The dens didn’t continue down with them to the bottom. Instead, lattices of ropey, vertical boughs sprawled in every direction. The braids of wood supported the weight of the dens above, though Barra thought they looked more like tethers to keep the dens from flying away. Closer to the Root the lattice was a complex maze with hollows that felt like cages. Barra swallowed hard.

As they continued, Barra and Tory homed in on a not too distant blue glow. Barra sniffed at the damp air and tried to squint through the mist. She prowled up a branch to get a better view while Tory stood guard below. After a few moments of observation, she skulked back down. Standing beside Tory, Barra stretched and tested the strength of her ankle.

“We need to rest,” Tory whispered, nodding to her injured ankle.

Barra nodded. Haggard and covered with brown and grey slime, Tory looked worn down. Besides, her second wind had come and gone. She’d passed the point of shaky muscles and carried herself on rubber-legs. If they’d found Plicks right then, she wouldn’t have been much help to him.

She gestured into the distance and reported softly, “That blue glow looks like a big pool of water. We could wash and rest there?” Her body was coated in even more grime than Tory’s. “There’s an open area around it, lots of tangled vines, but nothing else really,” she said, staying positive. “Pretty sure they’re headed that way.”

Nodding, Tory puffed himself up and set his sights on the blue haze.

They took turns climbing to survey the area as they approached. The narrow opening in the Root jagged back and forth a few times severely with a fine mist hanging over it. Waves lapped at the sides, the gentle sound amplified by the hollow space surrounding the pool. Warm currents drifted off the surface.

Tory’s cheekbones cast austere shadows up his face, and Barra’s eyes were lost in darkness. The light drew rolling ribbons of dark and light blue across their bodies.

The soothing rhythm of the waves stuttered. Something moved in the water, doming the surface, but never breaking the tension. Barra flicked her eyes at Tory and then up. Together they clambered for a better view. They hid behind a tangle of knots, and watched as whatever was in the water bobbed and circled. In time, the swimmer came to rest in the middle of the pool. Emerging from the surface came a single, dancing tentacle. It was glossy and tangerine-colored, and flicked around like a tongue tasting the air. Eventually, the tentacle rose up, folded back on itself, and then touched back down to the water. Another tentacle breached the surface, and another, until there were a dozen. They pushed down on the surface of the water, creating deep dimples. A bulbous form lifted into the air, the body rising among its tentacles. Barra thought it looked like the creature was turning inside out.

Completely above the water, the tentacles moved along the surface like they were swaying in an imaginary wind. The body bulged at the top and became narrow at its bottom. Water cascaded down over the creature’s body, and droplets fell like sparks onto the surface of the pool.

Barra was awestruck. Tory was spellbound.