by A. C. Salter
“Sir, he was breathing,” like I still was, after the final battle with the split-wings. If you had only seen fit to throw me in the Twine then, I may have had a warrior’s burial instead of living this half-life, this painful misery of an existence. “And so, I had no choice but to provide a healer.”
“Frog snot!”
“Sabesto will take responsibility for Dylap and will keep him in his place…”
“No, Fenwick, his place is in the river, in the grave or anywhere else that isn’t Farro. Do you understand? You, above all others know the consequences of what happens when other races of fae attempt to mix with ours. I cannot relax until that creature is dealt with. I’ve already got enough to do with that cursed black monster in the skies and now a fifth fairy has gone missing.”
Dilbus sucked on his broken tooth, was the general seriously considering assassinating the young fairy?
“Sir, it was also the Prince’s wishes that he be found a place among us. Or at least until his memory has returned.”
Cramaris’s fist struck the table, knocking a pot of ink over. The dark grouper fish blood ran over scroll work and gold tipped quills.
“Damn it,” screeched the general, attempting to salvage what he could of the paperwork. “Pogoil, get in here and tidy this up.”
The orderly rushed in and began to pick up the soiled scrolls and dab at the puddle of ink with a handkerchief. As he left the room, Dilbus noticed that his pressed uniform had a few black smudges added to the polished buttons. Good luck washing that out.
“Even thinking about that cursed creature puts me on edge,” the general said, wiping his stained fingers on a discarded piece of parchment, realising that it wouldn’t come off and so gave up. “I want him gone before he imbeds himself in the city. And I’m tasking you with that job.”
“Me, Sir?”
“Indeed, it was by your hands that he came, so you must find a way to get rid of him.”
Dilbus bit into his tongue.
“But how? He is under the protection of the Aviary. I cannot simply kill him for no reason.”
“I know that,” Cramaris growled, the bulge in his forehead returning and appearing to take on the shapes of twin slugs. “So, you must find a reason. Investigate, interrogate, use that brain that the Blessed Mother has given you and find me a reason to have him removed. Scout up the Twine if needs be and seek out where he came from and what he is.”
“And the night watch? I have duties to perform in Farro.”
“Please do not insult my intelligence Fenwick. The night watch can take care of itself. You do no more than sit in your room in the great oak, delegating routine orders. The night watch will continue, and in the meantime, you will find me that reason I need to get rid of that creature of the river.”
“Yes, Sir,” Dilbus heard himself say, although the words didn’t feel like his own.
“Do not fail me, Fenwick. I don’t have time for failures.”
No, you pompous, arrogant son of a bull toad, you don’t have time for anything other than your finely tuned city guard.
“I won’t let you down, Sir.”
“No, you won’t. Now go to your precious night watch duties. Your work will begin at dawn.”
“Sir,” Dilbus said and displayed a fine salute before hobbling from the office. His mind worked over what he must do. It didn’t sit right with him.
The orderly was in the atrium. He glanced up from the sun lamp, his fingers black with ink as he attempted to scrub the scrolls clean.
“You’ve got a skin louse on your nose,” Dilbus told him. Then smirked as the orderly wiped frantically at his nose with his fingers, leaving an ugly black smudge. “Sorry, my mistake,” he admitted, not having to hide the smile that wasn’t there. Sometimes in life, you simply had to grab what pleasures you could – even if you were in no mood to relish them.
5
Beetle Carts & Brownies
It was still dark when Ebbin came for him. Dylap heard the ivy scraping against the bark as it was drawn aside, and then the young fae stuck his head into the nook.
“Dylap, are you awake?”
“Yeah,” he replied and shuffled back to allow room for his new friend to enter.
He had awoken much earlier, but didn’t dare venture outside alone, even though the city was quietly asleep.
“I’m a little early but we better make a start. I can reach the ground faster than a falling conker, but since you can’t fly, it may take us a while. I also managed to grab you a ginger wedge from the food hall, it’s not a huge breakfast but it’ll keep you going.”
Dylap took the hand-sized biscuit and bit hungrily into its crust. A strong taste of ginger and honey filled his mouth.
“Delicious,” he said, spilling crumbs.
Ebbin grinned. “Aren’t they? But you must eat on the move. The brownie will be waiting for us at the roots.”
“What’s a brownie?” Dylap asked, as they climbed from the nook and pushed through the curtain of ivy.
“A ground-dweller, don’t you have brownies where you come from?”
Dylap shrugged as he stuffed the last of the ginger wedge into his mouth. “If they do, I can’t remember.”
The first light of dawn cut through the tall reds’ canopy in long sharp beams, swaying with the motion of the forest. Grey streams wandering over the platform and momentarily glancing over the sleeping birds. The Aviary was peaceful, with only the gentle snoring of a hummer rhythmically keeping tune with the finch in the opposite nest. It was beautiful.
Dylap felt himself smile as he followed Ebbin up onto the bridge, but his face suddenly struck a misplaced rope and instantly stuck to it.
“How did that get there?” Ebbin asked as he came to his rescue. “Spiders don’t usually come this close to the nesting ground in case the birds eat them.”
The rope peeled away from his cheek, pulling at his skin before it dislodged. The pale silver strand was almost invisible and extremely light. It was latched onto the branch above the nook and disappeared below, running down out of sight.
Taking a small knife from his belt, Ebbin sawed through the ethereal strand and began to coil it around his arm in loops. “I don’t like it. If there was a spider here last night, it means that Dewella has taken an interest in you. But the spider silk will come in handy.”
“Dewella was the name of the spider that talked in the Chamber of Justice yesterday. She offered to take me,” Dylap said.
Throwing the coiled rope over his shoulder, Ebbin set off along the branch to the platform. “Dewella never leaves her hole. She speaks through her spiders,” Ebbin explained. “The only reason she would have taken an interest in you would be for food. The rumours are that she likes fae blood.”
“Is that true?”
“Dunno, she’s the oldest creature in the forest and her hole subsists in the ruins of the old city. Some say she is fae herself. A princess from a time when the old Alabaster was in its prime, that’s over a thousand years ago.”
“But nobody has seen her?”
Ebbin shook his head. “Like I said, she never leaves her hole. And no fae is brave enough to venture inside. Any that go in, don’t come out.”
They came to the edge and the long gap between that and the other platform stretched wide. Dylap had leapt across it the day before, yet in the darkness the void seemed too willing to suck him into oblivion. He willed his fear away and readied himself to take the run up.
“Wait,” Ebbin said as he wrapped a length of the spider silk around his waist and tied a knot. “For safety, I won’t be able to hold you up, but if you fall I’ll be able to slow your descent.”
He flew above the gap and hovered, chestnut wings beating the fresh air.
Dylap tugged the rope around his midriff, the other end held by Ebbin and found that his vertigo had vanished. The drop didn’t seem as scary with a safety line.
Nodding a thanks to his friend, he sprinted towards the edge and jumped.
His feet hit the platform and he bent low to absorb the impact. The leap feeling easier than it had been the previous day.
“Good,” Ebbin encouraged him. “Maybe it won’t take us too long to reach the ground, after all.”
Returning the grin his friend was displaying, Dylap ran along the suspended structure of wood, feeling surer of himself as he dropped onto the trunk and climbed down the clinging leaves onto the bridge below. Ebbin chuckling as he glided above, careful not to get the spider silk tangled. He reeled it in as they came to the hollowed tree and they walked together along the corridor to the lift mechanism, the halo-shaped bone that hung from the ribcage arches above.
Ebbin passed Dylap the coil of rope as he grasped a lever set into the wall. “Hold onto something,” he said and then pulled the lever.
The halo shuddered violently for a moment before it suddenly dropped. Dylap barely had chance to grip a suspension cable, before the wind rushed up the hollow. His stomach lurched and threatened to bring the ginger wedge back up as he glanced down. The sun gems set into the walls passed by in a blur becoming a single amber line. Holes in the trunk wall flashed at brief intervals, revealing still images of the forest canopy below as they raced down. The wide ocean appearing black with only a lone gem shining from the Palace. Then they dropped through the canopy and into the city proper.
A large block shot up the centre of the halo, blasting them with a backdraft of air as it vanished up the way they had come
“That’s the counterweight,” Ebbin informed him. “It will reset itself when we reach the base of the lift. Now brace yourself,” he said, his face beaming with a wide grin.
Dylap was already gripping the cable as tightly as he could. His hands aching as the halo rapidly slowed and then halted with a thump which brought him to his knees.
“Are we on the ground?” he asked, standing up and finding that they had reached the bottom of the hollow.
“Not even close,” Ebbin replied.
Releasing the cable, Dylap followed Ebbin through a corridor and out onto a wide branch. The top layer of which had been carved flat with ridges along the edge.
“This is the berry trail,” Ebbin explained as he flew alongside, taking hold of the end of the spider silk once again. Dylap glanced over the edge and saw that the ground was still a long way down. The majority of Farro still lay below them. “It’s pretty easy going from here. The trail will take us to the bottom so no more having to jump. The trouble is, it’ll take us a while.”
At the end of the branch, the trail swept around the trunk of a huge oak. The wide path carved directly into the body of the tree, spiralling around its girth as it wound down. After many turns it led them across another limb to the forked branch of an elm. The fork dividing the trail, one sweeping off towards another part of the city while the one they followed spiralled down the elm’s trunk.
The city was quiet, the many windows and balconies were dark and the inhabitants asleep. Dylap wondered if they would feel as safe knowing that he was moving around the city while they were tucked up in their beds. He doubted it.
“Halt!” came a voice from the darkness.
A portly fairy flew towards them, a tall spear grasped in both hands. He held it before them as he landed on the trail. “Who are you and what are you about?” he demanded.
“Ebbin, Sir, from the Aviary, I’m going to the ground to fetch food for the birds.”
“But why are you coming down the berry trail?”
“Because I can’t fly,” Dylap spoke up, then hastily added, “Sir.”
The fairy glared at him suspiciously until his eyes found the strands of spines on his back. “The Dylap,” he said, the knuckles turning white as he twisted his spear. Revulsion screwing his plump face. “The night watch was not informed of this new arrangement,” he snapped, turning his attention to Ebbin and talking as if Dylap wasn’t there at all. “It doesn’t belong in the city, let alone wandering around in the dark hours. The commander will hear of this…”
“I’ve heard,” spoke another.
A lone fae limped around the corner, grimacing with each step. “I’ll take it from here,” Commander Fenwick said. “Report back to Limble after finishing the patrol.”
“Sir,” replied the watchman before hastily flying away, giving them furtive glances as he went. When he’d disappeared around the elm, Fenwick fixed them both with a scowl.
“Master Sabesto saw fit to let you wander the city at your will, did he?”
“No, Sir,” Dylap replied. “Ebbin is teaching me my new job.”
“We’re going to the ground to collect worms from the brownie,” Ebbin added.
Fenwick glanced at him and nodded. “At the least, Sabesto found you a place amongst the Aviary and a place in Farro,” he said, then placing a finger beneath the spider silk, lifted it up. “And this is to stop you falling? Clever, and a nice length of it too, how did you come by it?”
“We found it clinging to one of the tall reds,” Ebbin explained. “It was simply lying there.”
“How very lucky, but a word of caution boys.” Fenwick leaned closer and noisily sucked his teeth before continuing. “Dewella doesn’t leave strands of spider silk around for nothing. It’s precious stuff. If I were you I’d keep a close watch over those eight-legged crawlers.”
“We will,” Ebbin reassured the commander.
Fenwick’s gaze lingered on Dylap, as if he was about to say something further, but then changed his mind. “Then I won’t keep you any longer. You’ve tasks to do and a place to be. And those brownies are a prickly bunch at the best of times.” He stood aside to allow them passed. “And mind you stay out of trouble.”
When they were clear of the commander and a good length along a limb which connected the tree to another, Ebbin began to pick up the pace. “We’ve been dallying too much,” he said worriedly. “We should have been on the ground ages ago.”
“Then you fly ahead, I’ll run,” Dylap suggested.
Agreeing, Ebbin spread his brown wings and glided to the trunk, while Dylap worked his legs as fast as he could. His feet made slapping noises as he sprinted along the branch, his useless spines bouncing on his back with every step. When he reached the body of the tree, the trail cut around and began to spiral down once again. He touched the bare wood as he made his way down, his fingers brushing the wall to keep balance. Around and around they went, Ebbin flying parallel with the rope pulled taut between them. They were still a great deal up from the ground and he recognised the desperation on Ebbin’s face.
“I’m slowing you down,” he admitted through bursts of breath.
“Maybe a little,” Ebbin agreed. “But I see no other way.”
Dylap glanced over the ledge as he ran and judged the distance to a branch that struck out from an ash tree.
“I’m going to try something,” he shouted as he changed direction. “Hold tight to that silk.”
Wondering if he had made a bad decision, Dylap gripped the rope around his waist and leapt from the trail.
Time stood still as he left solid ground. The vast city of Farro spreading out before him as gravity wrapped its fist around his body and yanked him down. His stomach lurched, wind whistling through his ears as the ash’s branch rushed up.
“What are you doing?” Ebbin shouted as he dived from above, straining as he wrapped a length of the silk around his arm.
Dylap didn’t know how to answer that, even if he could. Instead he braced himself and hoped his plan would work.
He struck a lone leaf that was sticking up from a twig at the end of the branch. As it slapped his body he threw his arms around the waxy sprig, bending the stem until it snapped completely away from the twig it was fixed to. The impact had slowed him, but as he continued his journey down, his body twisted with the added shape of the leaf as it caught the wind.
The silk around his waist tightened as Ebbin struggled to hold him. The spider rope tangling around his arms, the leaf and his legs as he t
umbled. Constricting his airway as the world spun, green, black, piercing light – wood, sky, leaves, bark…
His descent was suddenly halted and the binding silk crushed him to the point where he saw only stars. Yet he hadn’t hit anything solid.
When he wriggled his chest free enough to breathe, he realised that he was dangling half a span above the thick limb of an oak, the rope having snagged against the branch above.
“What by the Blessed Mother did you think you were doing?” Ebbin yelled as he swooped level and began to pick at the knots that bound him.
Glancing up, Dylap guessed that he had fallen a good deal passed his original target.
“I’m only trying to reach the ground as quickly as I can,” he said between gasps. “We’re late, remember.”
“Late? You’re lucky you’re not dead,” Ebbin replied, his face the colour of the Alabaster Tree. The knot he had been untying finally slipped undone and Dylap crashed to the branch.
He clambered to his feet and brushed the bark dust from his clothes.
“It worked though, we’ve come a long way down. And you had the safety line.”
Ebbin shook his head as he patted his waist.
“It came undone the moment you plunged. Thankfully it was sticky enough to cling to something.”
Looking again at where the spider silk had snagged above, Dylap realised that it hadn’t only caught on the branch, but had clung to the surface. He gripped it loosely in his hand and made a flicking motion with his wrist and it came loose to fall at his feet.
“Please don’t try that again,” Ebbin pleaded.
Dylap stared down as he coiled the rope around his forearm and left a good length dangling from his hand, another idea forming in his mind. Looking to his friend he mouthed the words, ‘I’m sorry,’ and then leapt from the branch.
The air rushed up to meet him once again as he plunged in a downward arc. Tree limbs rushed by, leaves and stems catching his feet as he narrowly avoided the bigger branches. He had no control of the direction he fell in, or what was beneath him but Dylap could change the shape of his body. Tucking his legs in close, he twisted around and threw the length of spider silk.