Sunborn Rising (16 page)

16. Circling the Dream

The bups sailed through the air on warm drafts that blew up from the Root like giant gentle exhales. They were rising and falling at will, far from the reach of the rotting monsters. They were safe, but it couldn’t last. Plicks couldn’t float them forever.

Barra scanned the rootscape, worried that the eyeless thing would find them no matter where they touched down. Her forearm throbbed in time with the memory of his words, “
You are mine.”
Over and over again in her mind, the words repeated, until the muscle beneath the cut ached to the bone. She squeezed her eyes against the pain, and tried not to think about how far they were away from home.

“Over there!” Tory shouted. His eyes were least capable of seeing through the darkness, but he wasn’t as distracted as the other two. He pointed to a large area isolated from the rest of the Root by a roughly circular ridge. The ridge was an incomplete wall of bound boughs around a relatively level floor. As they floated over the cirque, Tory thought the bowl-shaped rootmass was well-insulated, the broken sections of ridge stuffed full of dangerous nettles. The whole cirque was washed with dim, diffuse light and Tory thought the flora within looked healthy opposed to everything else they’d seen.

Plicks glided them in closer, and they saw the old bindings that held the shape of the ridge together, and the sprays of metal threads where they hadn’t. Many rings had passed since anyone or anything had cared for the construction, and Plicks took it as a good sign. He’d met enough inhabitants of the Root. He picked a large pad of moss and made his approach.

Barra jumped free even before Tory’s feet touched down. She began prowling around, suspicious. Still perched on the Rugosic’s shoulders, Plicks began gathering up his scruffs. Tory didn’t seem to mind.

“Whaddya think?” Tory asked Barra in a hushed voice.

Barra was inspecting a group of flowers and plants. Sniffing at it guardedly, she said, “I’m not sure. This garden seems tended, doesn’t it? Like someone’s been here?”

Tory walked over to stand beside her. Plicks gathered his scruffs and hopped down to take a look for himself.

“Maybe…” Tory didn’t want to admit that he agreed. “Maybe not. Either way, I can’t picture one of those, those
things
living here.”

Barra nodded. She purged her nostrils, and found her sense of smell returning. Sniffing around, she said, “Yeah. I think we’re safe enough for now—”

Plicks interjected, his voice cracking, “Safe enough?” He paused. “What were those things?!”

“I don’t know,” Tory said. “I didn’t get a great look at any of them.” Feeling the back of his head, he winced. “I’ll say this: I’m glad they’re slow, because they’re strong. What was that thing in the wall? It wasn’t like the others. What did it say to you?” he asked Barra.

“I couldn’t understand him,” she lied. She turned away, hiding her wounded arm. “He just gurgled at me, that sick stuff pouring out of his mouth. He didn’t have any eyes! Did you see that? But it was like he was staring right at me!” She shivered at the memory.

Plicks unloaded his thoughts, “What’s going on down here, anyway? Everything is dead and empty, and covered with black ooze! And we were just tied up by a bunch of… of puppet things that probably wanted to kill us and serve us up as dinner for their eyeless master! I just wanna go home!”

“Hey, you’re okay!
We’re
okay,” Tory said. “We got away from those things! Barra annihilated one! Did you see that? And now, we know we can outrun them, and we’ll be able to avoid them by their smell. Right, Barra?”

Barra was distracted, but managed to say, “I can pick them out. No problem.”

“So,” Tory concluded, “let’s just catch our breath for a bit.” Smiling, he hit Plicks in the shoulder. “That’s twice you saved us!”

“Ow,” Plicks stumbled a bit, winced and rubbed his shoulder. Grimacing he added, “You’re welcome?” The punch hadn’t really hurt much. But it snapped him out of his hysterics a bit. He added, “Thanks again… for coming for me.”

“You’d have done the same,” Tory said.

Barra nodded, but then her stomach growled at her, changing the subject. She was eager to explore the cirque. She moved away from the boys. “There must be something to eat around here.”

Tory didn’t want to be separated again, and Plicks felt the same way. They nervously closed the gap between themselves and Barra, and stayed close as they joined the hunt. The cirque was even larger than it had seemed from above, and their search was slow. They still hadn’t found food when Tory noticed something through a cluster of nettles that filled in one of the gaps in the wall.

“What is it?” Barra asked, worried.

“Not sure. Just curious,” Tory said, reaching into the mess of twisted branches. His voice straining, he added, “Looks like… uh, you know. Those festival flowers…”

Plicks filled in the blank, “Hanging blood lilies.”

Barra knew the flowers well. Her mother grew them in long strands for the New Ring festival. She thought about the sweet nectars and exotic fruits, the singing and dancing, and visiting with family and friends she only saw once every 312 buckles. She feared for the first time that they might not get back to the Loft. She had to shake the thought from her mind before she could focus again on what they were doing.

“Can’t quite…” Tory was still reaching, his tongue hanging out between his sharp incisors.

“Here.” Barra stepped up. “There’s a trick to it if they’re really blood lilies.”

Tory stepped aside and Barra got in close to take a look. The spherical bulbs were about the diameter of one of her hands. Each comprised of dark blue-green petals folded together tightly. They didn’t look exactly like the blood lilies that Barra knew, but they were similar.

She ran her tail skillfully through the nettles. Examining the closest bulb, she closed her eyes to concentrate on the texture. Then she found the spot, a soft dimple in the shell, and she tapped it smartly.

Nothing happened.

Barra tapped the bulb again, and then she said, “Well, they might not be…” but before she could finish her sentence, the bulb popped open. The blue-green petals of the shell peeled back, and hundreds of thin orange and red tubes unfurled from inside. Every tube lit up, so that the flower resembled a floating ball of fire.

Going down the strand in both directions, the bulbs peeled open, fireballs appearing haphazardly through the brush. Each blood lily illuminated its own small sphere in the damp air, and Barra, Tory, and Plicks felt a connection to the Root for the first time.

Plicks was the first to speak. “They’re beautiful.”

Barra enjoyed the lilies briefly before her smile faded. The lights might attract unwanted attention, especially if the eyeless thing’s minions were looking for them. Probably a mistake to have woken the lilies, but Barra tried not to dwell on it. No need to worry the boys about something that couldn’t be undone. The lights wouldn’t go out again for hours. “Yeah, they are nice,” she said, trying to keep a positive tone.

Even without food, Barra’s stomach had grown tired and so had she. She said, “I think we need to rest. I can’t search anymore. Should we take turns keeping watch? Just to be safe?”

Tory said, “Yeah, I’ll take the first.”

Barra shook her head and started to argue, but Tory was insistent. Something in his eyes told Barra that he understood about the risk of the blood lilies. He raised his eyebrows and said for Plicks’ benefit, “There’s no way anything can sneak up on us with all those lilies burnin’.” He winked at the fearful Kolalabat.

Plicks knew they were protecting him, tip-toeing around him. He felt embarrassed for how he’d been acting—he wanted to keep his chin up like Tory and Barra. Chewing on his lower lip, clicking his talons, he tried to think of something to say.

“Okay, so Tory has the first watch. I’ll take the next,” Barra said. She quickly counted the lilies knowing they would close back up at regular intervals, the reverse of how they’d opened. She said, “Wake me when there are sixteen left, or if you start to nod.”

Tory agreed. Stretching his body in every conceivable direction, he bounced to get his blood moving. “Sleep well,” he said and sauntered off.

“Come on, Plicks,” Barra started off toward an inviting patch of ferns.

Always a natural with math, Plicks had only to glance at the lilies to know that the watch had been divided in half, instead of thirds. He felt like a burden. It was the same with his brothers and sisters. He was never sure what to do to help, or what he had to offer.

Barra saw Plicks staring blankly instead of following her, and she shouted, “Plicks!” Startled, he blinked several times, and then she continued, “Come on, worrywart. Tory’s got it covered.” She meant to be encouraging, but it was the last thing Plicks wanted to hear; that someone else was taking care of him again. After lifting and dropping a heavy sigh, he scuttled over to Barra.

The two had more than enough room to sleep comfortably on the patch together, but as Barra circled and flattened the ferns, Plicks stood apart. He released his scruffs and began arranging them on the floor of the Root. Barra liked sleeping alone, not having any siblings of her own, but was surprised to find that she wanted Plicks’ company, wanted him close. She wouldn’t have admitted it aloud, but she was scared. She was about to call him over, but as he settled into his scruffs, she decided not to bother him. Instead, she said, “Good night.”

“Night,” Plicks returned softly, looking out from beneath a blanket of fur. He didn’t want to be a burden anymore. He wanted to apologize, but wasn’t sure how. Tomorrow, he’d keep his head on straight. They were going to be okay. Pulling his furry scruff down over his face, he went to sleep.

Barra closed her eyes but stayed awake awhile longer. She thought about the eyeless monster. Her pulse quickened, and she had to stop herself from snarling. She had to think about something else if she wanted to sleep. She tried to occupy her mind with pragmatic thoughts. Food and water were important objectives. Knowing the layout of the cirque was another. After that? Well, that was tomorrow.

Eventually, her thoughts wandered to her father. He had left the trees long before Barra could’ve ever gone exploring with him. She envisioned them together adventuring in some exotic Loft abundant with curiosities. There were ancient dens with unique bindings, eccentric shapes, and strange rooms. She imagined a warm, safe place replete with fragrant blooms. Her father taught her the names of the flowers, and her breath fell into a regular rhythm, and she fell asleep.

Barra’s dream began like most dreams; it began in nothingness. And then…

A single seed appeared, and from that seed, a single sprout.

It grew tall and broad with countless roots and branches. Buds poked out from the bark and leaves unfurled. Petals burst and flowers were born.

A lush canopy expanded and created the sky. An intricate system of roots stretched and created the sea. New trees sprang to life in every direction. Vital shades of green painted the leaves, and radiant flowers illuminated the scene.

Barra sprinted over the boughs. Her veins pulsed and her lungs swelled. Her strong limbs carried her easily, as though at any moment, she might fly from the trees. Her tail rippled behind her, flexing and catching the rushing air. It swung behind her and kept her balanced.

Without slowing down, the treescape became abruptly static.

A Listlespur stood in front of her with his back turned. She knew it was her father, and he was staring at something far below them.

Dad? What is it? Barra’s dreamself asked.

There’s something down there, he said, curious.

That’s the Fall… there’s nothing down there but the end of branches, the end of life, Barra said.

Her father turned around, and said, No, beneath the Fall. See for yourself. It’s the beginning…

Barra stepped up beside her father and stared down through the interwoven forever of boughs, leaves, and flowers. Deeper and deeper she looked until finally she saw a speck of darkness. The longer she looked the bigger it became. She was mesmerized. The black speck swallowed the trees, and she was stuck in place. It grew faster and faster, and made her feel like her whole world was falling into an abyss.

She turned to her father. We have to run! she screamed. But he was gone.

Running vertically at top speed, Barra tried to escape. But the darkness beneath her grew as fast as she climbed. She dug deep, and moved even faster. The darkness matched. The darkness gained.

Barra saw the sky. It was full of distant, bright purple sparks that pierced the thinning canopy above her. And the leaves parted, and she saw more of the red cloud that belted the Reach than she ever had before. And she knew that soon, there would be nothing left for her to climb. The darkness grew.

She ran even faster! And at the top of her home tree, she reached such a speed that she launched herself into the sky. She was free, floating and weightless. But the darkness was endless below her, the black swallowing everything.

And soon, there was nothing around her. Nothing to see. Nothing to smell, or taste. Barra commanded her arms and legs to grab something, to grab anything!

But there was nothing.

Nothing to hold.

Nothing to stop her fall.