by A. C. Salter
“Let’s see how much gore you get on yourself today,” Ebbin joked as he retrieved the blades and hooks from the tool shed.
It was hard work, gutting the worms and placing the slop into the bubbling cauldrons, yet Dylap finished the task with only getting his sleeves dirty.
“Not bad,” Ebbin commented. “It took me weeks to be able to finish with any less worm juice on me. And we’re ahead of schedule.”
The sun had barely risen and only now the birds began to chirp for their breakfast. The hummers and finches competing to cry the loudest.
“It’ll still need washing out,” Dylap said, tapping the block of soap in his pocket. “I’ll take the cart back to Merrybone and visit the stream.”
“And bump into Elaya again,” Ebbin teased, nudging him with his elbow.
“No,” Dylap protested as he put the cart into motion. Although he was secretly hoping to meet her. She at least understood how it felt to be treated as lowly as himself.
After reaching the forest floor and leaving the beetles with Merrybone, he ventured out to the stream. He went to the same spot he had found on his previous visit. The fish was still there, bobbing along the bottom of the pond, but there was no sign of the girl. He waited long after his clothes had dried, but if she had been washing that day, she must have come and gone before he arrived.
Since it was almost midday, Dylap set off back to the Aviary. He hoped to meet Jambilee or Edvin on the way, but the only fae he met treated him to hostile glances, chattering amongst themselves once he had passed.
When he returned to the Aviary he found that the main platform outside the Master House, was full of the fairies that worked and lived there.
“Where have you been?” Ebbin asked as he hastily approached. He ushered him to the side of the crowds and they all turned to the wide balcony, perched above the main entrance. There, standing with arms folded was Master Sabesto. Glowering at the crowd below him, he raised his arms and called for silence. As the fae quieted, Dylap heard the sobbing of somebody sniffling into a handkerchief. When he looked, he recognised the baker who had fed them earlier. Another fairy in a white apron was consoling him.
“I’ve gathered you here today for grave tidings,” The master spoke, his words echoing around the Aviary and seeming to quiet even the birds. “It seems that one of our own has gone missing.”
The crowds began to murmur as they convened with each other until Sabesto shouted for silence. When they quieted, he continued.
“Genili, the baker’s apprentice hasn’t been seen since visiting the mill earlier today. The baskets of flour she was carrying were found abandoned on the berry trail, along with her cloak.”
At the mention of her name, the baker began to wail, clutching a small red cloak to his chest.
“The city guard have been alerted and are now searching the forest for her, but it seems that whatever had befallen her is linked to the other disappearances in Farro. If you have any information, no matter how trivial, please let either myself or the guard know.”
He waited once more for the silence to descend on the crowd.
“To that end, no fairy of the Aviary will wander alone. These strange disappearances are becoming common and hitting close to home. But Genili was one of our own, and by the Blessed Mother I won’t lose another. So, you will go around in groups of no less than two.”
The master glared at the fae below him, his deep-set eyes casting over all of them and when they passed Dylap, he felt them linger for a moment.
“Every single fae of the Aviary is family. You will all look after each other. I don’t care whether you’re a tamer, a scraper, baker or worm-gutter. You’re all one to me and should be to each other.” He slammed a meaty fist into the balustrade making the entire balcony shudder. “I do not want to be calling a gathering again.”
He waited until his words has stopped echoing around the Aviary before waving for the baker to enter the house. After treating the crowd to another glare, he too disappeared inside his chamber, closing the balcony doors behind him.
“I can’t believe it,” Ebbin said as the fairies began to disperse, “poor Genili.”
“What do think happened to her?” Dylap asked as they made their way to the nook.
Ebbin shook his head. “That’s the worst part about it. Like the rest of the fae that have gone missing. They seem to have simply vanished, as if snatched from the air itself.”
8
Crazed
A scratching noise had awoken Dylap. He sat up in the nook and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. It was dark, probably the middle of the night and he still felt immensely tired. On reflection, it had been a long few days. This being the tenth night since beginning his role as a worm-gutter and although he found the job becoming easier, it was still labour intensive. Even more so since the disappearance of Genili. Now that they must travel in pairs, he not only did two trips a day to the ground, but was also required to follow Ebbin when he did his tasks and often ordered to follow others as they went about the city. He was often chosen to accompany the scraper when he needed to empty buckets of bird dung and was also made to escort the nest builders and help collect twigs and feathers. Yet he didn’t complain. The more he travelled and spent time with others, the more used to him the fairies became and were less inclined to stare at the spines on his back.
Dylap settled down, attempting to find sleep once more when he heard the scratching noise again. It came from the other side of the ivy curtains.
Shuffling to the ivy, he pushed them aside and climbed out of the nook and came face to face with a spider.
Eight pairs of black orbs reflected his shocked expression as he jumped back, striking his head against the top of the nook’s entrance. He toppled to the floor, shaking the white dots from his vision only to be replaced by the clicking mandibles of the spider as it slunk towards him.
Hairy legs slammed into the branch and bark as it drew closer, the fat body swinging easily beneath.
“Don’t be afraid, Dylap,” the spider said, seductively. It was the same female voice that had spoken in the Chamber of Justice, although it was a different spider. “We mean you no harm.”
Dylap shuffled back until he met the solid trunk of the tree. The spider’s long legs had him pinned and he was at the mercy of the arachnid.
“Dewella?” he asked, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart.
“Yes, although my child of the web is only a conduit in which I speak through.” The overly large fangs vibrated with each word, the needle points shining with poison. “I would of course like to be with you in person, but for reasons I can’t explain now, I must remain in my lair.”
“Why come to me?” Dylap asked. “And why leave me strands of silk – not that I’m ungrateful.”
The spider sunk lower until the fetid smell of its breath wafted across his face.
“Because you’re special. I recognised you the moment they pulled you from the Twine. I’ve been watching you Dylap, watching and waiting.”
“You know who I am?” Dylap asked, feeling excitement raise the hairs on his arms.
“I know who you were,” Dewella corrected, “although not where you’ve been. Don’t you have any memories from before?”
Dylap shook his head. “Who am I?”
The spider made a series of scratchy sounds which he thought might have been laughter.
“I don’t want to spoil that surprise just yet,” she said. “Let’s simply say, that you’re not too far from home. Although the home that was, is no more.”
Feeling as though he was being mocked, Dylap pressed the issue. He doubted the Lady of the Web knew who he was and was merely playing a cruel game. After all, he was warned not to trust her.
“The obelisk? I had an image of it, a memory. Has my past life something to do with that?”
The spider took a cautious step back, its hairy legs gently stroking the branch as it moved.
“The obelisk, yes,” Dewella repeated,
over pronouncing the S. “So, some memories are returning. Perhaps in time you will remember all. But until then, know this. There are fairies here that mean you harm. Fae that would rather see you put back in the Twine and forces that are aiding them.”
“Who?”
“My eyes and ears don’t work so well inside the city, but I have seen enough to know that your path is perilous.”
“How do I know that you’re telling the truth? This maybe a trick to lure me into your lair so you can eat me.” Dylap didn’t doubt that she was hiding something from him, but realised that if she wanted him dead she could have sent one of her spiders into the nook and killed him while he slept. It wouldn’t be hard for a spider of the size before him to carry his carcass to Dewella. In fact, the more he thought about it the braver he felt.
Clambering to his feet, he stepped towards the arachnid. “Tell me who I am, or who you think I am,” he demanded.
The spider edged away, eight pairs of eyes locked on his. “You’re not ready. If it’s answers you seek - look around the old city. Jolt your memory. Talk to the wisp if you must.”
“The wisp?” Feeling as though he was being played with again, he jabbed a finger at the spider. “What do you know of the fairies that have been going missing? Some say that it’s your work. That you have been taking the fae of Farro.”
“This is not my doing,” Dewella protested, the spider with which she spoke through rose on its back legs, stretching to twice his height, but Dylap wouldn’t be cowed.
“Then whose? You say you have eyes and ears in the surrounding areas of the city – then you should know who has been taking them. Who has stolen Genili?”
“I know of the disappearances, but nothing more,” Dewella protested, “it must be the doings of a creature with greater powers than myself.”
The spider suddenly leapt onto the branch above, crawling upside down as it turned its fat body to face him. “I have not seen it, only felt its presence.” A small drop of silk appeared from the back of its body and it dabbed it against the wood. Then feeding the silk through its back legs, began to climb down the glistening strand until its head was once again level with his own.
“Stay pretty,” it said, “stay alert and visit the old city. When the time is right and your mind mends the bridges to the past, you will remember. Then it might be the case that you will wish to forget once again.”
“But…” Dylap argued, frustration welling up. Yet the spider slipped below at a frightening speed and vanished, leaving the long strand of silk swaying on a light breeze.
Dylap began to reel in the length of new rope, wrapping it around his arm. He stared down into the void and felt more alone than ever. Dewella brought more questions than answers.
Leaving the coil of spider silk outside, he crawled into the nook and slumped back on the soft moss. He knew sleep wouldn’t come, his mind was too busy. Instead he kept going over Dewella’s words and attempted to piece together something sensible. But the harder he tried, the more muddled his thought process became until he no longer remembered what the Lady of the Web had actually said or what he had invented himself.
Before dawn arrived, he had ventured to the kitchens and met up with Ebbin. The fairy which was standing in for the bereaved baker cast them hostile glances as she stabbed a stubby finger towards a pile of stale breads.
“Take one each and make it last. I’ll not be kneading any more dough until this evening,” she snapped before ordering them out of the door.
“I see Dewella’s been back again,” Ebbin said, pointing his lump of stale bread towards the coil at the foot of the nook.
“Yes, and this time I spoke to her.”
Dylap explained all that he remembered from the arachnid’s visit hours earlier, as they descended through the city to the forest floor.
With the practice of the previous days, Dylap had acquired a knack for falling and swinging with the spider silk without his body meeting anything solid. His feet brushed leaves, skimmed over stalls and thatched roofs, but his ascent was swift and Ebbin had a hard time keeping up.
“It doesn’t make any sense,” Ebbin said as they reached the ground. “How would she know who you are? And more to the point, why won’t she tell you?”
Dylap shrugged. He had asked himself these questions already.
“I think she’s making a fool of you. Attempting to make you visit the old city so she can capture you and kill you in private. She would then be able to eat you slowly and suck all the juices from your innards.” Ebbin made scraping actions with hooked fingers over his belly while pulling a grotesque face.
“Nice thought,” Dylap said as he waved out to Merrybone. “But let’s keep this between us for now.”
His gaze fell on the crooked obelisk across the clearing and the wisp which still weaved around the narrow structure. Maybe he should investigate it at some point. But with Master Sabesto ordering that they remain in pairs, he would have a hard time persuading Ebbin to go with him.
The journey back to the Aviary was quiet and uneventful. They had beaten the sun gem collector and so had no need to halt along the winding trail. Gutting was also becoming easier. Merrybone had stacked the worms in a way that made them slide out with ease when they hooked and dragged them onto the gutting trolley.
When they had finished the gruesome task, Ebbin stared at him.
“What?” Dylap asked.
“I don’t know how you did it, but you don’t have a single drop on you,” his friend answered.
Dylap glanced down at his clothes and shrugged. “It’s easy enough once you’ve done it a few times.”
“Yeah?” Ebbin said sarcastically as he held up his own sleeves. “And I’ve been doing it for a couple of years and still get patches. I don’t know, maybe Dewella is right and you’re special, somehow.”
Dylap laughed that comment off as he washed and stored the blades and hooks. Then helped Ebbin to stew the worms ready to feed the birds. Because they needed to work in pairs, he was unable to return the beetle cart to the ground until Ebbin was free from his tasks.
By the time the birds began to chirp, the work was done and the feeders arrived to take the stew away.
“What’s it, doing here?” Spoffle asked as he sidled along in front of the feeders, the scraper and another fairy following close behind. “I thought it, was a worm-gutter.”
“I am a worm-gutter,” Dylap said, aware that Spoffle’s crew had begun to fan out around him.
Spoffle’s mouth twisted into a grimace. “It doesn’t speak to me,” he snapped before addressing Ebbin. “Why is he here?”
“Like Master Sabesto has ordered, No fairies are to travel alone,” Ebbin replied as he stepped away from the scraper who towered over him, spinning his scraper in his hands.
“Exactly,” Spoffle argued. “No fairies, it, is not a fairy.”
“And why hasn’t he gutted the worms?” the scraper asked, pulling the cloth from his mouth to speak.
“He did. He’s been doing it for days now,” Ebbin answered, backing into the gutting trolley.
“Then why is it clean?” Spoffle demanded, roughly prodding Dylap’s chest with each word. “Worm gutting is the dirtiest job in the Aviary.”
Heat filled his belly as Dylap clenched his fists, yet he held them to his side. The ones that would suffer would be Ebbin and himself. The only other fairies about were in the Taming Tree, struggling to calm an excitable swift which thrashed as they attempted to saddle her. But even if they could hear, would they care?
“A worm-gutter must smell of worm guts,” Spoffle continued as he glowered down, menacingly. “Climb on the trolley,” he ordered, “I want you rolling in the slop.”
His cohorts agreed, chuckling with the idea.
“But I don’t see the point in him…” Ebbin protested but was clipped around the head by the scraper.
“Shut it,” Spoffle growled, “or you’ll be bathing in your stew.”
Dylap’s legs tensed, rea
dy to spring himself upon the tall bully. Anger welled up from deep inside, a dark place where he sensed violence brimming – willing him on.
“Look at his hideous spines,” one of the feeders exclaimed, pointing behind Dylap.
Spoffle’s narrowed his eyes, his pure wings fluttering open and spreading wide. “He dares challenge me?”
Dylap caught the shadow his spines were casting on the branch below and felt a lump in his throat. They formed the perfect shape of wings. Then he caught Ebbin shaking his head. Indicating for him to stop. But Dylap didn’t want to, this was the first time his spines did anything more than hang limp against his back.
“Pathetic,” Spoffle growled between his teeth, wafting his wings before him and causing a blast of wind to hit Dylap. “They’ve no more substance than the skeletal remains of a maple leaf in autumn.” The scraper laughed but the rest of the fairies remained silent.
“Spoffle, he doesn’t know what he’s doing,” Ebbin shouted and ducked below the scraper’s swinging arm as he made to swat him. “Please, he’ll climb on the trolley.”
Breathing deeply, Dylap forced the anger from his mind and the tension from his shoulders. The hatred wilted with his spines as they sunk once more to hang useless from his back. He stepped towards the trolley, remnants of worm’s guts clinging to the thickening gloop which hadn’t made it to the cauldrons. He had little choice, but to humiliate himself.
“Go on then, climb on and smother yourself in it,” Spoffle coaxed, his wings folding neatly behind him. “Unless of course you still want to challenge me.” Thick eyebrows raised as he fluttered his wings once again.
Swallowing the urge to thump Spoffle on the nose, Dylap lowered his head and gripped the side of the trolley, placing a foot on a wheel, he could climb up. But as he did so, the fairies across in the Taming Tree let out a scream, quickly followed by the panicked cry of the swift.
“It’s crazed,” one of the feeders said as they all turned to watch the bird thrash about. Even Spoffle turned his head from Dylap’s humiliation to see what was happening.