by A. C. Salter
“Starving,” he replied as he took several paces back. If he was to make a home in the trees, he would need to get rid of his fear of heights.
Focusing on the safety of the other platform, Dylap sprinted towards the edge and leapt out into the void.
The instant his body left solid ground, a wind tore up from below to snatch at his spines and hair. His clothes dragged him down and Dylap felt his bowels suddenly turn to water. His mind was already screaming at him for his lack of judgment when his feet slapped upon the platform and he fell to his knees.
“The food hall will be closed now, but I know where to scrunch a bilburry or two,” Ebbin continued, as he flew on.
Dylap pushed himself from the floor and caught up with the young fae as he descended below the platform. There was no obvious way down, but a leaf on the next branch brushed the platform. Its thick stem was partially broken as it fluttered in the breeze.
Grasping the sharp tip of the leaf, Dylap leaned over, transferring his weight onto the fine green membrane. He gently pulled himself along, the smooth surface allowing him to slide easily. With his body now at its centre the sides curled up, enveloping him.
Almost there, he goaded himself, reaching for the base of the stem that connected the leaf with the branch.
There was a ripping noise and the broken stem began to peel away from the bark, tearing a long white scar down the tree.
Dylap’s grip tightened as the leaf dipped and fell out into the abyss, tipping over as his body fell with it.
The forest canopy spread out before him, the dying sun shining from the green ocean and glinting off the Alabaster Tree. Further and further the stem peeled, until there was an inevitable snap and he belly flipped over.
Reflexively, his arms spread wide and his fingers found a low hanging twig. The momentum of his falling body swung him beneath the platform and he fell head first out into the open.
His face slapped heavily into another leaf, which immediately tilted with the sudden burden to spill him spinning onto the next which in turn dropped him onto another. Feeling giddy, he was twisted and turned, spun one way and then another until he didn’t know which way was up. The leaves seeming to play a game with his body, tossing him endlessly as they spewed him forth until he rolled out onto a bridge and his limbs tangled with the ropes which suspended it.
“And then there’s the wilbury gooses,” continued Ebbin, unaware of Dylap’s floundering. “They’ll be juicy this time of year, but I expect the grubbery rushes to have filched them.”
Staring after the fairy, Dylap yanked his head from between the ropes and withdrew his arms and legs. He glanced up at the platform from where he had fallen, several spans up. It was a wonder he hadn’t broken his neck.
“Of course, if the food hall was open, there would have been yam steaks and jelly wippits…What happened to you?” Ebbin asked as he paused to regard him, eyebrows rising into his dark curls.
Dylap shrugged. “Is there an easier way?”
“Sorry, I keep forgetting,” Ebbin admitted. “No wings. How did you get down?”
“I fell and the leaves kind of guided me,” Dylap explained, rubbing his sore knees.
Ebbin nodded. “Something will always catch you. Leaves, branches, twigs or bridges.”
“Or the ground.”
“There aren’t many places where you can fall all the way to the forest floor. Well, that’s easy for me to say – I’ve always had wings.”
They made their way over the bridge to a tunnel that bored entirely through the Taming Tree. Sun gems glowed from the carved ceiling, lighting the way along the narrow corridor. Further inside they came to a halo-shaped ring that hung by ropes from a set of arches above. They appeared to be made of bone, the white porous material spanning incredibly high, most probably the ribcage of a deer or antelope. The ring, or pelvis, was lashed to a pulley system that fed through the arch to the hollowed trunk. Below the halo was blackness that descended into the very depths of the tree.
“This is the lifting hoist,” Ebbin explained, waving his finger about the large contraption. “It descends through the canopy below and most of the way down the tall red. I’ll show you how it works in the morning. But for now, there’s a bilburry with my name on.”
He flew directly across the ring, leaving Dylap to scramble around the edge until they met at a corridor entrance on the other side. Vines ran along its length, laced with tickling hairs until they emerged on the other side where the hairs became thick leaves.
“Come, the best will be higher up,” Ebbin urged as he flew out of the corridor and began to ascend, following the creeping foliage.
Dylap made the mistake of glancing down. Somehow he swallowed the vertigo as he began to climb the vines, jamming his feet into the soft bark beneath as he pulled himself up. By the time he reached Ebbin on the narrow ledge above, his arms and shoulders were shaking with fatigue.
“See, what did I tell you?” Ebbin asked as he gleefully plucked a purple berry that hung from the vine. It was as big as his head and came away with a wet pop. “This place is secret mind. Don’t go telling anybody where we found these bilburries.”
“I won’t,” Dylap promised as he grasped another purple berry with both hands and pulled it from the vine.
It was heavier than he thought it would be as he sat down and brushed a white film of dust from the surface. Wondering how he would go about eating it, he watched Ebbin as he raised it to his mouth and sunk his teeth into the skin. It burst beneath his canines, squirting twin jets of purple liquid onto his already stained tunic.
“Delicious,” he mumbled, beads of berry juice running down his chin.
Dylap laughed as his belly cramped up in anticipation of the meal. If the pungent smell was anything to go by, then he was in for a treat.
Squeezing the fruit to pull the skin taut, he bit into the bilburry. Instantly his mouth filled with the sweet flavour. It was incredible. The most tantalising taste he had ever had. He closed his eyes to savour it, swashing the rich liquid around his mouth before swallowing.
“Nice, huh?” Ebbin enquired, tearing a chunk of flesh from the fruit and beginning to chew.
They ate hungrily, the slurping and ripping sounds filling the conversation for them. When they had finished, all what was left were a handful of sharp pips. Ebbin gathered them up and deposited them in his pocket.
“I’ll plant them in the morning,” he said. “I’ve another secluded spot to grow bilburries.”
Dylap rose and brushed himself down, noticing that he had picked up purple stains on his rough spun jerkin and trousers. He hoped it would wash out, they were his only pair.
“It’s getting dark, we better head back before the owls come out,” Ebbin warned as he set off back the way they had come.
“Jambilee told me that the fairy protection prevented the owls and other predators from entering the city.”
“It should,” Ebbin admitted. “Although there have been a few disappearances of late. Whether it’s the owls, the bobber-snatches or that black monster that is constantly circling above, fae have been going missing.”
“Really, how many?” Dylap asked as he began to climb down the vine.
“I think it’s five now,” Ebbin replied as he hovered beside him. “It’s only officially four, but I heard it from Bittle, who had heard it from Spoffle who overheard one of the guards telling his uncle that one of the servants from the Palace had been snatched last night. It’s not common knowledge yet.”
Dylap glanced up into the darkening sky, the terrifying falcon was floating above, its black outline silhouetted against the moon. The sight sent a shiver through his core, those poor fairies.
They shared a solemn silence as they made their way back to the Aviary. The birds were sleeping in the nests, rhythmic snoring whistling from more than a few beaks. But apart from a couple of muffled twitters, the tree was quiet.
Sun gems glowed through the many windows and balconies that spiralled up t
he trunk to the top. All but one, which Dylap guessed belonged to the unused room that was once the master’s son’s. The shutter doors on that balcony were closed and sealed from within.
Ebbin landed before the double doors and entered the tall red, closing them behind him. “There’s a couple of spare hammocks in the slumber chamber,” he explained as he led him along a polished corridor and down a flight of winding steps. He opened the second door he came to and entered.
Laughter filled the room and the unmistakable voice of Spoffle, bleating above the rest. “I win again,” the house leader boasted, dropping a handful of wooden disks on the table he sat at. “That’s eight out of ten, pay up.”
The fae sat opposite, reached into a pocket and slid a handful of red petal shavings across to him. Spoffle carefully flicked through the petals before stuffing them inside his jerkin.
The chamber was large and circular. Comfortable chairs and acorn rockers were spread about the carpeted floor and a pile of sun gems glimmered from a brazier at the centre. Hammocks hung from brackets set in the wall. Like empty moth cocoons, they rose high in rows of two until they reached the ceiling, several spans up.
Ebbin caught him gazing up and pointed to one of the lower hammocks. “You can take that one,” he said. “It’ll be easier for you to climb into. The senior ranks sleep higher up.”
Dylap smiled. The hammocks seemed inviting and he was mightily tired. It had been a long day and he would be glad to sleep in the warmth.
“What is it, doing here?” Spoffle demanded as he realised they had entered.
The room grew quiet as all eyes turned to Dylap. “I’m not here to cause trouble,” he said, raising his hands. “I’ll simply sleep and stay out of the way.”
“Do not speak to me,” Spoffle spat. He turned his glower onto Ebbin. “Wormgut, why did you bring it here? It’s not welcome.”
“Sorry Sir, but he needs a place to sleep,” Ebbin replied as he stared at his feet.
“It will sleep someplace else, do you understand?”
“But…”
Spoffle rose from the table, coming to his full height as he towered over the shorter fairy. “Escort him out of the tree, or you’ll join him. I’ve already accommodated for you, and that was charitable enough. We don’t like to water this house down with more lowly breeding.”
Other’s around the table also rose, folding their arms as they backed up their leader. Some smirking while others seemed less than happy with the situation but didn’t look as they were about to intervene in the matter.
“Where shall he sleep?” Ebbin asked as he backed away.
“Drop it at the feet of that other inbred scum, Jambilee. The fault to all this lies with her.”
Dylap felt anger prickle at the base of his spine as he curled his fingers into fists.
“Leave Jambilee out of this,” he demanded, the harsh said words spewing from his mouth before he had a chance to rein them in. “She had no choice, it was the Prince’s wishes.”
Spoffle turned to his cohorts. “It still attempts to communicate with me,” he said, drawing a few sniggers from the group. “Very well, let me speak in a language this low-born creature may understand.”
Spoffle came closer, glaring down the length of his nose; including the blood-red boil. The corners of his sharp canines showing as his lip curled back in disgust.
Dylap stood his ground, meeting the hate-filled glare. Maybe he had over-stepped the mark? Defiance wasn’t a trait that the fae of Farro seemed to tolerate from the lower ranks. And he was the lowest.
The punch was fast. Striking him in his stomach and driving the wind from his lungs. Dylap staggered back, struggling to draw air into his chest as he bent double.
“I think perhaps, it understood that,” Spoffle chuckled as he stepped closer and hunkered down so his face was almost brushing Dylap’s. “Stand up to me again, creature of the Twine,” he whispered, “and I will feed you to the kestrels. They’ll eat anything and will tear you apart for the prize bits. Not that there are any.”
Dylap felt an arm slip under his elbow and his hand stretched over another’s shoulder. He braced himself for another attack but it was Ebbin that had come to help him. Taking his weight as he escorted him to the door.
Once they were in the corridor, the door slammed behind them and the laughter resumed from inside.
“I’m sorry,” Dylap said, his words coming out in a strained croak as he struggled to breath. His stomach felt as though his innards had been crushed. “For getting you involved.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Ebbin replied as they shuffled down the corridor and back outside, grasping a lamp from a hook as they went. “Spoffle will always find somebody to pick on. If it’s not you, then it would be me.”
“Won’t anybody stand up to him?”
Ebbin shook his head. “His father’s house is too powerful, and you’ve seen his wings. They’re about as pure you can get without becoming Royalty. Spoffle is set for great things in Farro, even his cousin is courting the Princess.”
“Still,” Dylap groaned. “It doesn’t give him the right to bully everyone else.”
“I agree, but nobody will do it. Not from the tall reds, it’s best to simply keep quiet and keep out of his way.”
Dylap felt the pain ease from his chest and the strength returning to his legs so slid his arm from Ebbin’s shoulder. “I’ll try to keep that in mind,” he said. “But where will I sleep?”
“I know a place.”
Ebbin guided him down a flight of steps and under a thick branch. Twigs and ivy hung from the underside, forming a thick curtain.
“It’s a small nook, but cosy enough for one,” Ebbin explained as he pulled the ivy aside to reveal a dark corner. He held up the lamp, revealing a circular hole. “Go ahead.”
Dylap pushed through the curtain of ivy and found a natural hollow in the trunk. A thick layer of moss blanketed the bottom. Dry and soft, it sagged as he crawled inside. He doubted he would be able to stand fully without knocking his head against the roof, but there was room enough to sit or lay out on the moss.
Ebbin poked his head through the green shroud. “I found this place a while ago, a retreat from Spoffle. I still use it sometimes when I need to make myself scarce. It might need a dust, but it’s out of the elements and dry.”
Dylap grinned. “It’s perfect.”
Twisting the outer sleeve of the lamp to fade the light, Ebbin set it down on a shelf, carved from the dome-shaped wall.
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” he said returning the grin. “Get what sleep you can, we’ve got an early start.”
“Thank you,” Dylap said as Ebbin began to crawl out of the hollow.
“You’re welcome. I’ll come and fetch you before dawn.”
Alone in the cosy nook, Dylap finally felt safe and at ease. He reached for the lamp and twisted the sleeve, trapping the gem light inside. Placing it back on the shelf he sank into the moss, the long day finally catching up with him.
Before his lids closed, he thought about Ebbin, the only fairy in the tree that he thought a friend. Jambilee was another he could trust, but she lived in the other tall red. Farro was a strange city. A society built on ranks and classes. An unfair place to live, but one which he now belonged. Dylap didn’t want much. Just a simple life and for others to treat him fairly. Like the fairy who had found him in the Twine. A rare person who had treated him with a degree of decency. He wondered where in the city, Dilbus Fenwick was now.
Dilbus fidgeted with his fingernails, attempting to distract himself from the pain throbbing through his knee and back. There were no chairs nor benches in the waiting room outside the general’s office. A tactic which his commanding officer used. It tested the patience of those waiting while making them uncomfortable.
Fenwick had been here since dusk. Waiting in this bare atrium when he should be posting orders to the night watch. What made it worst was knowing what the summons was about.
The
highly polished door swung open and an orderly clicked his heels together.
“The general will see you now,” he said, crisply. Ignoring Dilbus’s senior rank.
Dilbus nodded as he limped through the doorway, feeling the orderly’s gaze at his back. Clenching his teeth with the pain, Dilbus stepped closer to the young secretary, letting his crippled stump brush against the pressed uniform. The orderly cringed away, screwing his face up as if tasting bitter lemon sap. It was childish, he knew. But at his age and with the conditions he was afflicted with, he needed to grasp what tiny pleasures he could.
“Captain Fenwick,” the general growled from behind his desk.
“Sir, you wished to speak with me?” Dilbus replied, adjusting the weight of his body to his good leg.
There was a chair directly in front of him. A highly polished walnut to match the desk, yet he knew that the general wouldn’t allow him to sit. Cramaris was several years his junior and Dilbus remembered a time when he looked up to him. Back when Cramaris was a young officer in the guard, and he was a sprightly captain. How things had changed since then. But that was war for you. It played havoc with the ranks as well as the mind and soul. Not to mention what it did to your health.
“I don’t desire to speak to you, but I feel I must,” the general said. He had a bulge on his brow that sat heavily above his deep-set sockets. It bunched up as he scowled, pushing his eyes beneath fat folds. It gave him a bullish appearance, much like the rest of his large frame. “This business with the Dylap, the creature from the Twine,” he uttered, tapping the top of the desk with a thick finger. “It irks me.”
Everything irks you, you egotistical toad. “Sir, he is placed with Sabesto in the Aviary. I’m sure…”
“I know that, Fenwick. I was in the Chamber of Justice when that fool tamer signed the papers,” Cramaris snapped, the bulge forming a deep crevice at its centre. “But what I don’t understand is why you allowed it to happen. You should have tossed his body into the river the moment you found it.”