Sunborn Rising (14 page)

The creature changed shape, metamorphosing as it floated. The tentacles grew long and flat like ribbons and the body squished into a disc. The creature also pulsed subtly, light passing from its center outward as it rose into the air. Suddenly, Barra felt longing sadness. Her father had probably never seen anything like the tangerine creature. She wished he were with her. She imagined him taking notes, and knew that his sketch would have been awful. His words would have captured the moment even more beautifully than she saw it now. Her breath quivered as she choked back her tears.

A flourish of clicking and clacking sounds rained down, jolted Barra out of her daydream. Hundreds of Kudmoths beat their wings in a dark cloud that descended like a shroud over the watery creature. Shimmering brightly, the creature shifted back and forth like an orange blur burning the air. The short-distance bursts weren’t enough to evade the insects. The Kudmoths interlocked, forming a loose net. They enveloped the creature, and tightened their grips to collapse the trap.

Barra flashed angry. She remembered being suffocated like that, swallowed by the darkness, and she needed it to stop. She couldn’t just sit there and watch, no matter what the Kudmoths’ purpose was.

Tory grabbed Barra. Recognizing the expression on her face, he whispered gently, but firmly, “No! There’s nothing we can do! We don’t know what that thing is!”

The net of Kudmoths shrank until there were no holes, no sign of the creature within, only a writhing ball of insects buzzing above the pool. That was all Barra could take. Her body was slinky, built for escape, and even with his tremendous strength, Tory couldn’t hold her. She wriggled free and dashed from where they were hiding. Tory stumbled after her, grasping at nothing. He shook his head, exasperated, and then ran to catch up.

Charging up to the edge of the pool, Barra reared up and hissed savagely. Tory rushed up to her with his imposing, loping gait. He readied himself, arms and legs flexed, head low, eyes flashing. Barra tried to thunder her tail against the floor, but the resulting
thud
was dampened-weak, and the Kudmoths seemed unimpressed.

Tangerine liquid began oozing out through the Kudmoth ball. Tory took a few steps back, showed his teeth, and growled so deeply that his chest vibrated visibly. More of the liquid appeared and Tory decided that threats weren’t working. He took two long strides, launched himself into the air, and crashed into the net, exploding through it.

The Kudmoth ball disintegrated in a burst of splintered carapaces and tangerine goo. Tory landed on the other side of the pool with splashes of the viscous fluid sliding through the grime on his body. Gathering himself, he prepared to run away, but when he glanced back, the remaining Kudmoths were already gone. “What the…? Where’d they go?” he asked in a low voice.

Bewildered, Barra answered, “They just flew away.”

Tory followed Barra’s searching eyes but saw only the shadows of the rootscape. The water creature was gone. Tory rubbed some of the tangerine fluid between his fingers and the light within faded. The texture changed too, becoming tacky, and then turning into a fine, ashy powder. He shook his head uncertainly as he wiped his hands together and watched the dust fall from his arms.

Judging the distance across, he called back to Barra, “I don’t know if I can make that jump again.”

Barra was searching for signs of Kudmoths. They’d tricked her before and she didn’t want to be fooled again. “I’ll come around,” she said. She started walking, staring the darkness down as if a monster lurked behind each branch. She shrank away from the shadows, but she also had to take care around the ragged opening in the Root. Lined with sharp branches covered in slimy bark, Barra didn’t know how she’d get out if she fell in.

Tory kept pace on the opposite side. He was worried about Barra. He didn’t want to lose her the way they’d lost Plicks. They needed each other to get home, and he was going to make sure she stayed safe. Tory couldn’t swim, but he was drawn to the edge regardless. He pictured himself sinking and shivered. “Hey, did you notice how deep…” Tory’s voice trailed off as he tried to make sense of the bottomless reservoir. In the Loft, water pooled in natural or bound structures of wood and resin. Tory had never seen one so deep that the bottom vanished.

Gazing into the water, Barra couldn’t fathom its depth, though her interest waned quickly. Her forearm throbbed, her head ached, and they lost Plicks more with each passing moment. Without explanation, Barra’s stomach traded places with her lungs, or seemed to anyway, and she felt woozy. Not trusting her footing, she crouched away from the edge. Barra worried she was sick, but then realized her nausea was the result of the Buckle catching her off guard again. The signs were different at the Root, and Barra still hadn’t figured them out. The wood beneath her feet writhed. The rumble grew ever louder, and she dug in with her claws.

Vines and brambles reached toward Barra as the surrounding wood wove together. Tory had to dodge the thorns and boughs that swept slowly into his path. The water of the pool sloshed about tumultuously as the opening closed.

Tory gave up on the idea of going around. The vines were forcing him toward the water, and soon, he’d be able to simply step over the pool. But with the opening gone, the light would disappear too, and it was already too difficult for him to see Barra. Searching for her in the thorny blackness would be dangerous.

Tory waited, saw his moment, and jumped. The Root shifted beneath him, and his jump was clumsy. He landed off balance, but recovered fast and rushed over to Barra while he could still see her. Tory grabbed her paw up in his hand and held it firmly. “We’re okay. The thorns aren’t going to come much closer,” he said, acting more certain than he was.

Barra knew Tory was right. There was room for both of them, even if only a small pocket. Safe from the thorns, she worried about Plicks. She was scared they might already be too late to help him, and there was nothing she could do about it.

The Buckle ended, and the last breath of light was snuffed out.

15. Blind

I can’t see any way out,” Barra said, her voice strained.

Tory thought he heard her swallow. In the complete darkness, her eyes were all he had to know she was there. Whenever she turned away to scout their surroundings, it was like she vanished, and Tory was alone.

Struggling to stay calm, Tory steadied his wobbly legs. His reliable, easygoing confidence was faltering—something that hadn’t happened since his mother passed from the branches. He remembered when she’d gotten sick. He and his father had sat down with the doctor, and they were told she had time. But the illness moved faster than the predictions. The memory of his father explaining she was sick merged with the one of his father explaining she was gone. Tory’d had no response back then. He’d felt nothing except an awkward guilt for feeling nothing. The hurt came later.

Every achievement, every festival, and every birthday he spent without her was painful. Her absence had grown slowly, and he’d become disinterested in everything. He’d even started believing that he’d died with her, and wished he had sometimes. Tory had been angry with his father for getting over her before he did, and they fought once, just one time, about it.

Tory remembered the fight well. After he’d yelled his accusations, his father responded with severe calm:
I don’t miss her any less than you. I don’t grieve her loss any less than you. I just remember
her
instead of the moment she left.
It’d been hard to hear. Tory realized that he’d allowed her death to become more important than her life, and it bothered him that he’d let that happen. He wished he’d thanked his father for those words, but he hadn’t yet, and now he was worried he’d never get the chance. Barra winked in and out of existence again, but he thought of his mother, and the fear of the pitch black receded, and he felt less alone.

Unfortunately, they really weren’t alone.

Shivers went up Tory’s spine as he thought he saw Barra’s eyes change color. Then inexplicably, her eyes disappeared and reappeared in the distance, and he had to check that she was still beside him. Many sets of eyes blinked open in every direction. Tory felt fear, but courage too, and he silently thanked his mother for that, as the eyes closed in around them.

Whatever they were, they shambled oddly in the lightless after-buckle. They seemed almost clumsy, but then, their eyes opening and closing disguised both their number and their movement. Reaching out, Tory held Barra close, shielding her with his body.

Barra extended her claws and poised her arms to attack. She slashed viciously, promising pain to any creature daring to come near, but even with her highly effective night-vision, she saw only hints. Her depth perception failed too, and she swiped at nothing. She leaned back into Tory. She screamed out, and they turned together, but the creatures seemed to be everywhere and nowhere all at once. Suddenly, Tory’s body went slack, and Barra felt his arms fall away. She flailed about, searching for him, but he was gone. Spinning around, sweeping her tail broadly, she prepared to strike. Several eyes opened at once, and she turned to face them, eager to get on with it. But the creatures hidden behind her had other ideas.

Powerful hands grabbed Barra’s arms, legs, and tail simultaneously. They pulled her from her feet as she hissed and screamed and growled, but her struggle was futile. They were too tough, and too many. They bound her limbs and heaved her into the air. A large one slung her like a sack of berries over its shoulders, and just like that, carried her away.

Barra tried to see where they were going, but mostly, she saw the back of the creature carrying her. “Tory!” she yelled, but he didn’t answer. It was like that for a while, call and no response. She was worried, but she didn’t give up. She struggled with her restraints too, but the more she fought the tighter they became.

A repulsive, sickly-sweet scent of decay rose from her captor. She tried to wrinkle her nostrils closed but it wasn’t enough to block out the stench. To make matters worse, the creature jumped, and when they landed together her face was plunged into the rot that covered its back. After the nausea and dizziness passed, she realized her sense of smell had burned out. She wasn’t sure she’d ever smell anything again. She wasn’t sure she’d want to.

Testing her restraints again, Barra tried to identify the material and thought the ropes felt like braided willow twine, but rougher. She faked unconsciousness, and when she thought the creature lowered his guard, she twisted violently. It didn’t help. The caravan of creatures stopped, inspected the coils, tightened them and added more. There was nothing Barra could do but wait and watch for an opportunity to escape. She hissed and growled regardless—she would be free again and she wanted them to know it.

Know it, and fear it.

Barra worried about Plicks. She worried about Tory too, but Plicks? He could barely take care of himself on a good day. The sooner she found him the better. With any luck, these creatures were the same ones that took him—they certainly smelled the same.

The number of glowing, seeping scars increased as they travelled, providing improved light. Barra caught ephemeral glimpses of the rootscape. She was vigilant, looking for anything that could help her escape. There wasn’t much to see. She noticed however, that some of the thorny vines slid back into place in their wake, obscuring the return path. The vines appeared to move out of their way, as though the will of the creatures compelled them.

The density of the scars continued to grow, and Barra was able to see that they weren’t on the bottom of the Root any more, they’d climbed some. They were in another abandoned Loft-like city, except most of these dens were covered in tarry ooze, thick and abundant. The ooze existed wherever the Creepervine grew, and the Creepervine was everywhere. Her father’s journal had been clear that the vine was always covered in a layer of slimy fungus, but what she saw before her was a plague. The wound in her forearm ached, and she tried to ignore it.

Barra howled Tory’s name yet again, and again he didn’t answer. The caravan continued. She screamed louder, but her captors went on unaffected. She redoubled her efforts to figure a way to break free.