Wings of Boden (25 page)

Eyeing the smaller dreks, I stopped. The
young dreks appeared different, hazy—not dreks at all. They were
angels! Oh, my Source, what did I do? “Angie, are they—”

Angie let an arrow fly. A little one
disappeared. One left. I grabbed Angie’s arm, stopped her as I
locked my gaze on the blond “child.” It was looking back at me,
blinking blue eyes. “Angie, I think those are angels.” My voice
wavered, stomach wanted to empty.

“What? No. They’re playing with your
mind.”

Just as Angie finished saying that, the young
one began a drekavac yowl. Mouth gaped wide and filled with needle
teeth. The horrific scream ricocheted off the stony Crags. I
covered my ears, wincing with pain. Angie ripped an arrow out of
her quiver. A few seconds later, the dreks were no more, the last
remnants of scream fading and drowning out through the woods.

Gentle smoke plumes lifted from the
smoldering pit. Sounds of nature began to return, peaceful, as if
nothing was ever there. A squirrel chittered. A bird sang. The hawk
called.

Angie slid the extra arrow into her quiver, a
slunk
as it hit bottom. “Well, that was fun,” she said with
a smug grin. “Let’s go check it out.”

We stood before a circle of stones that held
the snuffed fire. Skewered on the ends of four sticks were the
charred remains of what looked like squirrels. Smells of burnt
toast, a hint of pine, and something like cinnamon lingered on the
air, weird.

As she swirled a stick through one of the
pools of syrupy drek liquid, Angie’s face squinched up with a
gross
look. “You know, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to
this foul stuff.”

“What are those?” I asked, eyeing down on
two, coiled-up snake-like things.

“I think those are whips, remember, from the
books.”

Images of angel whippings flashed in my mind,
sending the hairs on my neck to attention. Those were no angels.
Lesson learned. I started to bend down to pick one up when Angie
stopped me with her sharp comment, “Don’t touch it, Ellie.”

Half startled, I straightened up, eyeing the
whips while pulling some hair behind my ear. “What are they made
of?” I wondered out loud.

“Well, the books said the dreks dry out boar
skins, and twist them up, or something.”

Animal skins? The thought slid breakfast
around in my stomach. A bird sent some twittering notes through the
air, and the hawk called above,
kee-eee-aar
…

Angie said, “Maybe we should bring them back,
to show Dad, you know?”

“I’m not touching them,” I spouted.

“Oh, come on, Ellie, you were just about to
pick them up.”

I snapped a look. “Yeah, and you stopped me.
Besides, that was before I knew what they were.”

“I guess, but we should probably take them
though. I mean, we wouldn’t want other dreks to find them.”

She was right, I wouldn’t want that. “Okay,
yeah. I know.” I pulled an arrow from my quiver. “I’ll pick it up
with this.”

“Good idea.” Angie pulled one of her own
arrows.

We stood there, whips coiled up and dangling
off the end of our arrows.

“Now what?” I said, both of us staring in
confusion at the whips as the bird sang again.

“Let’s put them in our backpacks.”

Back at “base camp,” we slid the whips off
our arrows and into our backpacks.

Standing in the meadow, I shaded my eyes with
a flat palm and squinted at the bright sky, noticing the hawk soar
the high thermals in wide circles as I asked, “What time do you
think it is? Do you think we should go home now?”

“It’s only about eleven. We should explore a
little.”

Not
the answer I wanted, but,
whatever. “Okay,” I replied. “Maybe we should put our packs on,
though. So we can head back when we’re done.”

Backpacks on, we unfurled our wings and
lifted off from the meadow. A few bleach-white clouds resembled
giant heads of cauliflower as we soared around the mountains and
towering cliffs, scanning the pine forest below. From this height,
the cherry grove looked like clumps of pink cotton candy. In the
far distance, just this side of Boden, Quake Lake mirrored the blue
sky. It felt wonderful, free, pushing through the thin air with the
sun soaking into my skin. This wasn’t so bad.

“Let’s go up to the cave,” Angie called out
as she banked right to fly beside me.

There went that good feeling. “Really, um,
no. Why would you want to go up there?”

“Because, remember those eyes we saw. Dad
said there are no hunters in the caves, so I wanna know what that
was. Besides”—she lifted her bow as if to cheer—“we are fearless
drek hunters. We go where others do not.” She shook her bow and
shouted, “
Du-da-da!
”

Did I remember those eyes? Duh, I couldn’t
forget them. Now she wanted to go see what they were?
What the
flap?

“I don’t, Ang. I don’t really like—”

“Just c’mon, follow me.” Angie was off and
climbing.

Ugh
. Fine. A few wing pushes, and I
was following her to the flappin cave.

Angie was already on the rocky ledge while I
floated down. As my shoes settled with a light crunch, she gave me
a big-sister smile and stepped over to me, then placed a hand on my
shoulder and said, “There’s nothing to worry about, sis.”

“Yeah, yeah, enough of the little Ellie
stuff. Let’s go.” I tried to sound strong, though my voice did
crackle a bit.

Angie grinned, drew her hand back, then
wheeled around and hiked toward the cave.

After a deep breath, and a long sigh, I
followed.

The cave was worse than I remembered: A
frigid stone tunnel that lived in shadow, smelling of dirt and
mold—the kind of place that could chase my sanity away. Due to my
studies, I knew all the cataclysmic earthquakes and volcanos
created the Crag Mountains, and I imagined lava spilling out of
this place in rivers of flaming liquid rock. However, this cave was
probably the result of ice and erosion, snow melting through the
cracks. Probably there was some kind of water pool somewhere deeper
down in the mountain. And the old movie cliché came to mind of some
grotesque beings that have never seen the sunlight, waiting to
consume all who enter. I remembered the movies and how I would yell
at the screen at some stupid girl,
Don’t go in the cave, you
idiot!
Now I was the idiot. And I couldn’t turn around for fear
of sister ridicule.

As I took cautious crunching steps into the
dim, the cold seeping through my shoes, Angie said on a whisper,
“Do you see any eyes?”

“No, nothing yet. How far back are we gonna
go? It’s really dark and that smell, eew.”

“I don’t know. Let’s just keep going for a
little while.”

Not the answer I wanted. I stayed silent, my
eyes widening to gather light. For some reason, my legs insisted I
follow her. I’d have to have a little talk with them later.

“Look,” Angie said. She was too far ahead of
me. My legs weren’t cooperating with her pace as I crunched along.
“There’s light up here.”

She waited for me as I caught up. Light
glowed ahead on the left. We made our way, slow and careful, until
we stood before a jagged-arched hole in the cave wall—like a rotten
mouth leading to the gullet of the mountain, a rancid, dirty-sock
smell billowing out. I don’t belong here.

“You go first,” Angie had the gall to say to
me.

“You’re flappin kidding me right. There is
no
way you’re going to—”

“Okay, okay,” she cut me off, and then
started to take a step—

I stopped her with a sharp tongue, “Fine.
I’ll go first.”

After stepping through the opening and
walking for what seemed like forever, the room expanded into a
castle-sized cavern. Massive mineral spikes hung from the ceiling
like stained fangs. The air was moist, motionless. Stale. Water
sounds dripped,
ploop … plip … ploop
. A myriad of little
floating sparks of light filled the space with a greenish glow.
Fireflies. Awesome.

Something moved near the far wall, freezing
me, tying my guts into a tight knot as bugs crawled under my skin.
I couldn’t tell what it was, too far away, but it was tall and
thick. With the firefly light on its back, it seemed to be busy
picking things off the wall, foraging maybe? My bow hand trembled
as I brought it up.

Even with my pulse hummingbird-fast, buzzing
in my ears, I began to aim, swallowed a lump.

The thing turned, started walking toward me.
My heart punched at my chest.

“What are you doing in here,” it asked,
polite and familiar—in Vyn’s voice.

The drek was messing with me. No, not this
time. I pulled the string.

“What are you doing, Ellie?” The voice
muffled in the shrinking, claustrophobic room.

I held my aim. “I’m taking you out of this
world, that’s what I’m doing.”

“You’re not, Ellie, are you? You’re a flappin
drek, aren’t you?”

“Me! You’re the dirty drek, and I’m gonna end
you.”

“We’ll see about that.” Long strides, before
it stopped and said, “Wait. Dreks don’t carry bows, especially pink
ones. Ellie, settle down now.” One foot at a time, it stepped, arms
and hands outstretched in front of it as features became clear. My
bow arm trembled in choice. The thing spread its wings out wide.
“See, Ellie, it’s me, Vyn.”

Okay, that was convincing. I knew every
detail of those. The white wings held a stretching glow, firefly
sparks bouncing off them. I lowered my bow.

Angie’s steps behind me,
crunch, crunch,
crunch, squish
. “Eew, I stepped in something.”

“Source, Vyn,” I said. “I almost killed you.
What are you doing in here?”

“What’s going on in here?” Angie wanted to
know.

“Oh, nothing,” Vyn replied. “Ellie was just
about to make a Vyn kabob, that’s all.”

“Vyn?” Angie questioned, standing beside me.
“What are you doing in here?”

“I needed samples. Collecting fireflies, and
whatever these things are.” He gestured to the walls and all the
luminescent light objects that covered them.

“What are those?” I asked.

“I don’t really know yet, they’re like
cocoons or something. I just get the feeling they must be useful.
Here, I’ll show you.” He crossed the cave, returned with a
cotton-wrapped light thingy in his hand, interesting, but
whatever.

“Yeah, that’s pretty neat.” I gave him a
polite nod. “I can top that.” I set my bow down, took my backpack
off, pulled the whip out and held it up. “Check this out.”

“Wow. Where’d you get that?”

“Took it off a dead drek.” I tried to toughen
my proud little voice.

He snatched it from me, unfurled it and
rolled it out across the cave floor. Then pulled it back, swung it
forward, let it almost straighten out before he snapped his hand
back.

Wha-tish!
The loud crack echoed
through the space. Vyn filled with excitement, wings
flittering.

Didn’t care for that sound; it sent a cringe
through me and I did not want to hear it again.

Wha-tish!

“That’s enough, Vyn,” I said.

“What’s wrong, Ellie?”
Wha-tish!

“I’m warning you, Vyn, enough!”

Wha-tish!

Okay, he asked for it. I cocked my arm back,
curled my hand into a girl fist in preparation.

Wha-tish!

My fist flew and punched the side of his
forehead, a girl-powered light
thunk
.

He stopped, stared at me, dumbfounded for a
moment, while I held my scrunched-up, tough face on him.

Angie was the first to break out into
laughter. Vyn followed with a string of chuckles even as he rubbed
his fingers over the side of his unhurt head.

Vyn said, “I guess you weren’t joking,
huh?”

“Was there some reason you thought I
was?”

“You’re not our little Ellie anymore, are
you?” said Angie.

“I just don’t like that sound, that’s
all.”

“Yeah, I guess
not
.” Angie laid a hand
on my shoulder, said on a snicker, “My tough little sister.”

I asked Vyn, “How’d you know how to use
that?”

“I don’t know. I just did.”

After we told Vyn about the drek campfire
experience, I put the whip away and we helped Vyn fill his pack
with glowy things. We sauntered out of the lighted room. Upon
entering the main cave, I noticed the eyes in the distant darkness.
Yellow dots—they blinked. Strange, but I didn’t get that frightful
feeling like I had the first time. A twinge, yes, but I was able to
gather myself in just seconds.

“Hey,” I whispered, “there’s those eyes
again.

“Yep,” Vyn said, “there they are. You ready
to go home.”

“Should I shoot them?” I asked, leaning
forward with a squint.

“No,” Angie said. “Just put the bow down. You
don’t have to shoot everything, you know. Besides, it’s probably
just an animal. You wouldn’t want to shoot an animal, would you?
The eyes are yellow. It’s probably an owl or something. Even if it
was a drek, I’m
not
going down there to find out.”

“But, I thought you wanted to find out what
they were? That’s why we came up here.”

“Well, yeah, but. I changed my mind.
Sorry.”

She did have a point. Owls do have yellow
eyes, right? I wouldn’t want to hurt one of those beautiful
creatures. And if those eyes belong to a drek, down there would be
a bad place to be. “Okay,” I agreed. “Let’s get outta here before I
get creeped out again.”

Wha-thoop
, the whip sounded out, after
someone who doesn’t know the first flappin thing about whips
attempted to make it crack. That would be me.

Okay, so now I had to learn how to use one of
these ghastly things, maybe I shouldn’t have brought it back.
Earlier, Dad had said, “I haven’t seen one of these in a while. I
think you should learn how to use it.” He wouldn’t take no for
answer, though I’d tried to convince.