Below the Moon

by Alexis Marie Chute

  “It’s working! We’re almost there,” Lady Sophia says, beaming. Her plump cheeks conceal her bright eyes.

  “Do not stop,” Junin chants. “Again!” The company continue bashing the wall of the bubble until they notice they are veering off course. “The wind of the storm, it is …”

  Nameris continues Junin’s thought. “… pushing us back out to sea!”

  Many in the company drop to their knees, all their energy spent, shivering in damp clothing, their sweat mixing with ocean brine. “We must not give up,” Junin pleads. She continues to run and thrust her body against the side of the bubble closest to Baluurwa, but she, too, is weary. Defeat sits in the bubble like another member of the company, languishing in the sadness of their probable fate: being swept out into the vast horizon of watery nothingness and starving; or drowning, their lungs filling with water and ohmi juice and leaves from the Great Tree and tears and blood; or becoming a feast for creatures of the deep.

  Tessa closes her eyes. Ella rests her head on her mother’s chest. Ardenal covers them with his warm, comforting arms. Then they hear it. Their hearts twist.

  A knock.

  Awareness crashes over Tessa, and she nearly spills Ella and Ardenal as she shifts to look. There, beyond the blamala’s bubble, two shimmering faces float into view. Tessa’s first thought: Death. These are dead bodies drifting to taunt us. But the eyes that stare at the company are full of life. They blink. Their sea-foam green lips curve in a brief smile.

  “Donna and Harry!” Lady Sophia wails. “Oh, I never expected to be so happy to see you two!” She scoots to the edge of bubble closest to the two Atlantic Odyssey passengers. Lady Sophia presses her pout against the edge of the bubble, making kissing sounds. “You’re going to save us, I can feel it!” She grins.

  Junin looks puzzled. “I recall two humans with those names, ones we saved from the Millia’s hunger. But humans. These two are …”

  “One and the same,” sings Lady Sophia.

  “When our first company ventured east and visited the man-spider Rolace,” Tessa begins, relief easing the tension on her face, “he gave some of us gifts of Naiu. Donna and Harry had asked to be bound in Rolace’s silky cocoon together. That’s how they came to share their power, which made them—”

  “Fishy,” finishes Nate.

  Ella laughs, and a single green bird distorts her mirth when with its two pointed feet it squeezes itself from her mouth. It flutters into the bubble and, confused, bashes its head against the translucent saliva.

  “Come here, little one.” Junin welcomes the bird to nestle into her smooth, cupped hands.

  Lady Sophia points at Baluurwa the Doomful, then makes a pushing gesture. While the company cannot hear Donna and Harry and they presume the couple cannot hear them either, communication continues through hand motions and the shaking or nodding of heads.

  “See, Ella,” says Tessa, “if we all knew sign language, this would be a whole lot easier.”

  Ella rolls her eyes.

  Tessa works through all the signs she can remember from their family lessons, though that time back home seems like ages ago.

  Ella pipes up through her thoughts. Mom, seriously? You just signed, “Help-play-food-beautiful-finished-day-you-me.” That’s not a sentence.

  Are you sure?

  Ella laughs in her head and Tessa wishes to remember the sound, the long-lost laugh. Maybe her gift from Rolace, Tessa reflects—this telepathy between her and Ella—is the greatest gift of all, as Ardenal had suggested. Here they are, trapped and in danger, in the most fantastical way, and yet Tessa holds her child, as close as she had the day Ella was born, and her daughter’s sweet, innocent laugh echoes through her mind.

  Maybe this really is the happiness I’ve been searching for, Tessa muses to herself.

  Donna and Harry press their hands against the far edge of the lopsided bubble. They push and strain but only make small headway against the force of the wild wind that hooks and drags the flood away from the mountain. Donna and her glimmer of white hair disappear, her hands leaving impressions on the outer surface of the bubble. Almost immediately, she returns, guiding a lone blamala to the bubble. It is wounded and trailing a crimson line like a ribbon. It raises its mighty blue pincers and snaps them closed. The blamala gently rests its claws against the bubble and begins to swim.

  The pace of Donna, Harry, and the blamala is steady, and finally, after Nate has worn a crease in the bubble from pacing, the company and sprites reach the edge of Baluurwa. If Tessa were to stretch, she could touch the warm black rock. Above their heads floats six feet of water.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” sings Lady Sophia. She presses her hands to the bubble, one aligned with Harry, the other with Donna, and again presses her plump lips to the tacky sheen between them. “SWAK! Sealed with a kiss!” The transformed senior citizens wave before they, and the blamala, fade into the retreating sea.

  Tessa waves, overcome with gratitude.

  Nate surveys their surroundings. “We’re farther north than I anticipated, just above the Bangols’ fortress. Maybe we’ll intercept the Lord, Islo, Duggie-Sky, and Luggie.”

  Azkar grunts. “Let us get on with it.” He pinches his nose.

  “The stench is bothersome to me as well,” Nameris concurs, still looking pale and bloated.

  Suddenly, the water recedes in one swift inhalation. The bubble and all inside it jerk up and into the air. To the company’s surprise, however, the bubble does not pop.

  “That was unexpected,” Junin mumbles. “I was sure that once the air around us joined the air above water, we would be free.”

  Tessa touches the edge of their capsule. “We assume it’s an air bubble, but we’re wrong. It’s sticky.” Her fingers make a snapping sound when she pulls away.

  “Right,” Ardenal says. “Tessa is right—it is the tacky saliva of the blamala crabs. Why didn’t I think of this before? Now that we are above water, the spittle will solidify. The dampness allowed it to be flexible. We must break through before it hardens fully, trapping us inside.” He stabs at the misshapen bubble with his glass dagger, but the weapon cracks at its tip.

  “We could have melted it, but the wave put out our flames,” laments Nameris, looking to Junin for guidance.

  Azkar hulks through the hardening shell. “We must continue to cut at it, smash it. What other options do we have?” he growls.

  “We cannot remain here,” Junin adds, “balancing on the edge of this cliff.” Her words are bold, but her stature is hunched, nervous. She turns her back to the others and begins to saw at the bubble with her glass dagger, which makes a horrible screeching noise against the hardening substance. The sprites cover their ears as they hover near the company’s heads. The brave sprites bite at the translucent saliva casing and grind at its joins with the bristles lining their tibias.

  “This is useless!” Lady Sophia pouts. “We’re going to be trapped in here forever—or at least until the Steffanus sisters find us on their mountain. I bet those she-witches fly down and land on our bubble and taunt us to no end! I should be singing to an audience, not here as a captive to be jeered at!” She folds her thick arms and stomps over to the far edge of the bubble where she plops herself down. With this, those on the opposite end are tossed into the air.

  “What have you done now?” Nameris snarls at her. Lady Sophia frowns.

  “I think Nameris is right,” Tessa mumbles. “You’ve unsettled us.”

  Lady Sophia leaps to her feet, a look of terror twisting her round face. “Oh no! I’m sorry! Forgive me!” she wails.

  “Everyone,” Ardenal hollers, “run toward the mountain side of the bubble—this way!”

  It is too late. The awkward sphere wobbles on the sharp edge of Baluurwa, then shifts precariously. The company slide to one corner in a pile on top of each other. The sprites call out conflicting suggestions in their tiny voices, and struggle to lift human and Olearon arms and legs from on top of them to escape the
pile.

  Oh no, Mom!

  We’ll be okay, Ella. Brace yourself!

  “Hold on, everyone!” Tessa screams as the bubble tips and begins to roll down the northern side of Baluurwa.

  Chapter 23

  Archie Tessa Luggie

  Zeno turns from Tuggeron’s pooling blood to face the Bangols. “Do you see my power?” he roars. “No thickskulled ruler is my rival. My banishment taught me much. Portal jumping and the powerless inhabitants of our derivative should not be feared. What should be feared, however, is the Star. The Maiden of Olearon lied to Tuggeron. Neither she nor any Olearon can control the Star. Not Ardenal either. It did not come from the land of the humans. Earth reminds me of Jarr in many ways, though it lacks the kiss of magic.” Zeno pauses. He laces his grey fingers and cracks them. “We can be that kiss of magic.”

  A rumble of voices erupts amongst the Bangols below the stage where Zeno stands proudly, making up for his short stature. Some yellow eyes glare; others glow with possibility. Zeno does not rush them.

  Finally, he says, “Tuggeron’s desire for the Star twisted his mind. I, on the other hand, see clearly. The Star is wicked, poisoning our island. Everyone who believes otherwise has been deceived. Come with me, to the human Earth, where we might start again and obtain whole lands, not mere shores.”

  Archie’s mouth is dry. He cannot catch his breath as it runs away with his strength and is replaced by terrible realizations. You’re a fool, Archibald Wellsley, Archie chides himself. “This was Zeno’s plan all along, wasn’t it? He meant what he said about helping me get home,” Archie says, fuming, “but he didn’t mention he’d bring all the Bangols with us.”

  “Oh my ohmi!” Lillium chirps.

  Luggie grimaces and whispers, “The Olearons, even Ardenal—and Tessa, too—have warned you, Archie: Zeno uses you for his will. While I hated my father for the torture, banishments, and death he inflicted, Zeno is the same—only his methods differ.”

  Across the fortress grounds from Archie, Lillium, and Luggie, the Bangols rally at the amphitheater, talking of the Tillastrion’s readiness and other preparations that must be made. Just then, the fringe of the wave subtly slips through the maze and dampens the earth, spilling out from two of the three stone entrances.

  All Bangols back away except for one. Borgin, recently ascended from the crater, steps forward. “Zeno, my king,” says the timid stone-head, Chergrin’s replacement as head guard. “We saw the water approaching in the darkness before dawn. Stay back. We do not know what enchantments from the Star it brings to our northern shore.” With a quivering hand, Borgin caresses the water that darkens the earth and slinks into the gorge at the center of the fortress.

  The weak sun and glowing torches cast strange shadows on the advancing liquid. It has the sheen and structure of molten mercury. Borgin timidly touches his pale tongue with dampened fingers. “J-just water, King Zeno,” he stammers.

  The Bangols kick at the water, sneering wearily, and are about to return to their planning when their yellow eyes catch sight of Baluurwa. The black mountain is cut with silver lines of pale light. It stands ominously still and quiet, except for one peculiar apparition: what appears to be a giant water bubble tumbling down Baluurwa’s northern slope. Archie can see the other small contingent—the Lord, Islo, and Duggie-Sky—turn around in their hiding place to stare up at the strange sight.

  “It is like a tear,” Lillium whispers near Archie’s ear. “Baluurwa is crying.”

  The bubble shimmers silver, dream-like. Archie blinks hard, shaking his head as if the sight is a symptom of his concussion. Not a dream, not a dream, he repeats in his mind. The bubble is very real. It is oblong, lopsided, and descending quickly. Archie expects it to function normally—to fall, then splash, losing all form. That is not what happens.

  TESSA winces in pain. The company in the bubble cry out as they find elbows in their backs and feet in their faces. The blamala’s membrane is undamaged by the rocky slope of the mountain and the blue trees that splinter and snap under their crashing weight.

  They skid and careen down Baluurwa, bruising and bashing each other as they are mixed. Like tossed salad, Tessa thinks. She finds Ardenal’s hand and grabs it. He pulls her body close and tucks her head beneath his own, wrapping his arms around her to shield her. Tessa, peering out the corner of one eye, spots Ella clinging to Lady Sophia and Nate as they roll wildly. The other Olearons—Azkar, Junin, and Nameris—have linked their bodies and press themselves to the bubble wall, pushing against each other to maintain a fixed position. Still, the sprites, humans, and Ardenal smash against them.

  “We have almost reached the maze entrance,” Nameris manages.

  “Brace yourselves however you can,” Junin says calmly, though she shuts her black eyes. Her smooth red skin crinkles on her brow as a snarl escapes her clenched jaw.

  A Haaz at the bottom of the hill, guarding the stone-arched entrance to the maze, stiffens and stretches out its hands, feeling the whoosh of vibrations in the air as the bubble approaches. What is that creature? Tessa wonders. The Haaz lunges to the side, too late. The bubble crushes its giant black bones and thick skull in one bounce. Its blood paints a corner of the bubble, which continues to rocket forward over the walls of the maze, leaving it in disarray.

  ARCHIE catches sight of the Lord, Islo, and Duggie-Sky, who are forced to abandon their hideout and flee from the maze. The three careen through the stone buildings and across the bare earth, heading toward the east. Not that way, Archie thinks. He stands and vigorously waves, capturing his allies’ attention. He also steals the gaze of the Bangols, and of Zeno. Yellow eyes radiate in Archie’s direction, illuminating the dull morning in an eerie glow.

  The small contingent veers west. The Lord and Duggie-Sky are shoved into Archie’s arms by Islo, and they all duck as the bubble nears. Maze walls topple like dominos. Boulders soar through clouds of dust. As the bubble nears, Lillium screams as she observes the splatter of blood.

  “The other half of our company,” Archie says in disbelief.

  “And the sprites!” Lillium sings.

  “And Ella,” Luggie whispers like a prayer.

  TESSA clings to Ardenal. His arms give the sense of home amidst the chaos. She breathes him in, and past the smell of salt and sweat lingers his scent. The same scent as her Arden, human Arden; Ella’s father, history professor, Seattle resident. Her husband. Then the smell is knocked from her lungs by Azkar’s knee as they collide. Tessa is winded.

  The bubble travels the great distance quickly, while a swiftly fracturing crack grows across its longest edge. Tessa watches it with dread. As the bubble sails over the last wall of the maze, the crack spreads farther to the left and to the right, eventually joining to form a complete circle.

  Hold on, Ell.

  You, too, Mom.

  The firm capsule smashes down onto the hard earth, cracking open as a nut shell into a million deadly pieces. Sour air pours out like a smoke bomb, along with one hundred frantic green birds. Ella’s birds fly frantically in every direction, leaving behind a cloud of emerald feathers and a fading chorus of chirps as they disappear into the storm.

  LUGGIE reaches Ella first. Please let her be okay, please, he thinks. She is buried under hard, translucent pieces of the shattered bubble. He burrows her out, one shard at a time, until he reaches the last and heaviest. Luggie digs his claws into the smooth, air-dried capsule, but all his efforts fail. He calls to Archie and Ardenal, and together the three heave the fragment from Ella’s torso. In doing so, the fleshy palm of Luggie’s left hand slices open on a serrated edge and he grits his teeth.

  Ignoring the gash, he falls to his knees and collects Ella in his arms. She winces in pain and releases five green birds that Luggie bats out of his face. His searches her body for cuts or broken bones while she gazes longingly at him. Ella lifts a hand to cup his cheek, and that is when they see the cut on her forearm.

  “You’re bleeding,” Luggie says, panting. He clasp
s his hand over Ella’s wound. “Oh no,” he wheezes, pulling away suddenly. He looks at his palm, which is dripping steadily where he sliced it on the jagged shard. Ella’s arm wears the mixture of their bloods: the violent red of humans and the paler, moss green of Bangols.

  Ella, still intently staring into Luggie’s bright, frantic eyes, takes the Bangol’s cut hand and places it over her gash. She does this purposefully, with smooth motions. The sensation of stirring lifeblood warms the place where their two hearts beat as one.

  Many thousands of sunsets later, Luggie will say that this is the moment that changed everything.

  “I don’t understand,” he begins, but then he stops speaking, surrendering himself to understand Ella’s meaning—to appreciate her not only as the wounded girl he has come to care for deeply, but as the great love of his life, however bizarre their pairing may be.

  Ella cannot speak or even make a sound, however broken. Her gesture, like their own personal sign language, screams Ella’s love for Luggie through her fierce gaze.

  And so they sit there, content in a flurry of raging chatter and clanging metal. In a swirl of anger and grief, tears and love overwhelm them.

  Chapter 24

  Ella

  I feel different as our blood mixes, though I can’t explain how. I’m tired, too, as rain begins lightly, then falls harder. I wish Luggie and I could surrender to the departing stars and the breeze that wishes to sweep us away. Everything’s right in this moment as we hold each other on the muddying ground, but also terribly wrong beyond us.

  Mom screams. It’s piercing, even through the battering rain. I can’t tell if the scream is in my head or out loud. Instinctively, I leap from Luggie’s arms.

  I’m distracted, worried for Mom, and barely notice Grandpa Archie cleaning my wound with his khaki coat. The bleeding has slowed where my skin tingles of Naiu. Dad—his flame relit by the Lord despite the rain—tells me, “This will hurt,” and I don’t know what he’s talking about till he cauterizes my arm. I birth a swarm of green birds with my silent curses. I pull away, both grateful and pissed off. Dad moves on—off to help Mom, I hope.