Dylap

by A. C. Salter

  “High Caster,” he began after clearing his throat. He expected his voice would echo around the domed room but the sound was heavy, almost stunted as if the very weight of his words absorbed into the pentacle at his feet and were locked in there for eternity. “I wish for your judgment on an object which I retrieved from the Twine.”

  The others in the room didn’t look up from their studies of the tomes, but Dilbus got the feeling that their ears were soaking up his every word.

  A hand extended from the High Caster’s robes, long and skeletal it reached out, clicking and popping with arthritis as it opened.

  “Give it to him then,” said the binder that had led him in. “He hasn’t got all day. He has much to ponder.”

  Dilbus fidgeted the crystal fragment from his pocket and placed it in the proffered hand, wondering what on Thea the wizened old caster could be pondering about. He doubted that he would even have the strength to hold the piece, but was surprised how strong the old man’s hand was as he greedily snatched it and began to search over the sharp edges with his fingers.

  The white eyes didn’t show any sign of recognition, only reflected the blood flames from the black candles, but Dilbus noticed a twitch at the corner of his temple and the fingers increase in speed as they began to frantically tap all over the fragment. Papery skin tearing in places until he dropped it in is lap.

  “Zalibut,” the High Caster moaned, his voice sounding as dry and as dusty as the ancient tomes on the lecterns. “This is the creation of Zalibut, his words speak to me through the crystal.”

  “Zalibut?” Dilbus repeated. “The god of inventions? What do the words say?” He stared at the fragment and watched as it fell through the white hairs on the Caster’s lap, disappearing completely.

  “His words are incomplete, but the incantation that charms the vessel is for locking time.”

  “Vessel, time?” Dilbus asked. “I don’t understand.” This revelation brought more questions than answers and he doubted he would set his hands back on the crystal piece again.

  “Zalibut is a wondrous god. He has many inventions that are scattered to all corners of the world. Including the very machine that splits Thea from another realm and keeps them apart. The vessel the fragment belongs to is nothing more than a device for locking time – for keeping an object fresh from the day it was sealed.”

  “Like a bottle or jar? Something for the bigger races to keep food from spoiling?” It was plausible, he guessed but why would it end up broken and why would it have something to do with Dylap?

  “The Dylap?” the High Caster asked.

  Dilbus was sure he hadn’t mentioned the strange fairy out loud, which meant that the High Caster could read his thoughts. He was treading on dangerous ground now, he needed to be careful. It irritated him, knowing that the old man before him could pick through his mind. And even that thought brought a wicked grin to the High Caster’s aged face.

  “It was found in the river bed where Dylap was dragged from,” Dilbus admitted, unable to see the sense in lying.

  “It has no relevance for the Dylap. That creature comes with his own mysteries, but Zalibut’s creation was merely a coincidence,” the High Caster said. Then his hand lowered into his lap, the muscles in his face going slack.

  “I will escort you out,” the binder said. “He has gone back into meditation.”

  Dilbus wanted to ask more, but it was clear that this path of investigation had ended, although he still wasn’t convinced that Zalibut’s vessel had nothing to do with Dylap. Coincidences were all well and good, but the arrival of both the fragment and the flightless fairy were too great for him to simply forget.

  Back outside, he breathed in the fresh air while snorting the stale smell from his nostrils. Darkness had already begun to descend over the city. It was time he began his other work as captain of the night watch. This was only confirmed by the fairy that was standing beside his bird.

  “What is it Limble?” he asked as he approached, the familiar sinking feeling hitting his gut as he took in the dour countenance of his subordinate.

  “The general wishes to speak with you, Sir.”

  Missing fairies, god-created fragments, the elusive mystery of the creature from the Twine. What else can go wrong with his life? And he doubted the Cramaris was going to make it any easier.

  11

  Stardust

  A shriek pierced the descending night. The cry from the black monster cutting through the city and sending a shiver through the finch beneath Dylap’s legs.

  Steady – the falcon can’t harm you, he soothed the bird, although the lingering echo made him feel uneasy. The bird stamped its feet as it fought its natural instinct to take flight and flee the predator.

  “She’s unsettled,” Jambilee explained as she grasped the reins. “Are you sure you want to do this now?”

  It had been a busy day. Birds of all shapes and sizes had arrived at the Taming Tree. Once word had gotten around Farro that a bird-soother was working, fairies were struggling for space. By mid-morning Jambilee turned the majority of them away. Taking their names and asking them to return on different days. Dylap soothed the remaining birds: two hummers with saddle chafe, a finch with a skin disorder and a swift with gout. The latter having found a supply of berries which had fermented in which it indulged until it was drunk. The owner, a bird racer, had accused a rival racer of poisoning his swift, but as Dylap linked with it, he realised that the swift had gotten inebriated on its own accord.

  It had been an exhausting day, learning as he went along, but for every problem he was presented with, he had a solution. And it was as big a surprise for himself as it was for the owners. Jambilee had remained by his side for the day, helping to fetch items he required or in the case of the bird racer, to help guide it to an empty nest where it could sleep the rest of the day off.

  Dylap’s muscles complained as he stretched, fighting a yawn that he swallowed back down.

  “I’m sure,” he answered, wishing to learn something so he didn’t look a fool in front of Elaya when he went to check on the tailor’s hummer.

  “Fine,” Jambilee replied, passing him the reins, now that the finch had settled down. “But if the monster screams again, I’m going to call it off until tomorrow.”

  Dylap nodded that he understood and repositioned his legs so that his heels were resting beneath the wings and his knees gently touched the flanks. He was eager to fly, but knew that if he was to teach Elaya, he needed to concentrate.

  “Hold your hands a little higher, over the neck, not too close to the head or you will strike it if she turns. Good, she’s already been trained to respond to the commands, so all you need do is tap both your heels and she will jump into the air. Wait…” Jambilee slapped his leg before he moved his feet. “You don’t know what to do once you’re up.”

  Dylap offered her an apologetic smile.

  “Once in the air you will need to point her in the direction you want to go. She’s not a hummer so won’t hover in place. Without a command, she’ll simply fly where ever she’s looking.”

  “So how do I steer?”

  Jambilee placed her hands over his and guided them, shifting one in front of the other until the reins pulled tight and the bird’s head dipped to the same direction.

  “Got it?”

  “I think so.”

  “It’s a similar thing for altitude. To go up, pull back until her beak points up and ease off for her to come down. If you want to dive you’ll need to lean forward and increase your weight over her neck.”

  Jambilee sighed before opening her wings and fluttered into the air above him.

  “Are you ready to try?”

  Feeling a grin spread across his face, Dylap tapped his heels beneath the wing and barked out a laugh as the finch leapt from the branch.

  Within a heartbeat they were flying towards the Aviary and the bridge which was still under construction.

  “Guide her over the branch,” Jambilee shou
ted as she struggled to keep up.

  Dylap gently eased back on the reins and the finch rose above the tree limb, her wing dipping to the side as they banked around the thick trunk which they circled three times.

  “Good girl,” Dylap encouraged as he guided her into a dive, feeling the wind caressing his face and tussling his hair. Laughing, he pulled left and spiralled twice more around the tall red before plunging through the canopy and into the city proper.

  “Not so fast,” came Jambilee’s voice from above, although Dylap barely heard it over the current of air and the crashing of leaves.

  Easing the pressure from his knees, he pulled back on the leather strips in his hand until the bird had levelled out and glided gracefully, rising and falling over the many boughs and branches.

  “Slow down,” Jambilee cautioned as she caught them up. Her cheeks were flushed and she was panting as she flew level. “You were only supposed to fly around the Taming Tree and land again.”

  “I’m sorry Jambilee, but I’m having too much fun. This is amazing,” Dylap said, noting that his teacher’s grin was beginning to match his own. “May I fly to the stream and back?”

  “I don’t know,” Jambilee replied, “it’s getting dark and you’re very green to this. But I must admit, you’re handling the finch like you’ve always ridden.” She pulled the goggles down over her eyes, her grin spreading beneath them. “We’ll make a single pass then head back to the Taming Tree.”

  Dylap felt exhilaration race through him as Jambilee tucked her wings in and dropped head first, vertically down. He watched her plummet, skimming thick limbs and bridges before spurring his mount into a dive.

  Closing his eyes against the rushing wind, he steered the finch, sensing excitement from the bird as she chased the fae below. Down they went, descending quicker than Dylap thought possible. They soon caught up with Jambilee and flew passed her, guiding the bird between the leaves and twigs as they rushed up to meet them.

  Then all at once the waterwheel came into view. The large turning cog spinning slowly in the stream as it gathered up buckets of water.

  “Dylap,” Jambilee screamed, “You’re going too fast.”

  His elation rapidly giving way to fear, Dylap pulled back on the reins, but he realised too late that they would never pull up in time.

  “Dylap!”

  Choking down the rising panic, Dylap let go of the reins and slapped his palms against the bird’s neck. He searched for the finch’s mind and immediately sensed horror. It was clear that she knew they were heading for certain collision and didn’t trust her rider’s guidance. Yet she was taught to do as commanded.

  Seek out a path through the wheel, Dylap projected, sending an image of the gaps between the waterwheel’s spokes. Fly as you wish, you are in control.

  He sensed a subtle shift in the finch’s posture, a tail feather dipping, a wing angling, and they fell in a different direction. Still plummeting towards the wheel but attacking from a steep angle.

  Dylap ducked low to the bird’s back and buried his head into the soft feathers on her neck.

  You can do it.

  His stomach lurched as they passed through the spokes, the thick, worked wood buffeting the wind as they narrowly shot between them.

  As they passed through, a water drop fell from a bucket and struck Dylap in the face, momentarily blinding him. He shook it free as the finch suddenly spread its wings and soured up, skimming along the trunk of an elm, her legs grazing the bark.

  As Dylap regained control and eased the pressure from his knees, the bird slowed down to allow Jambilee to catch up. When she did, Dylap prepared himself for the rebuke, he had been an idiot to blindly fly towards the ground at such speed. Instead she flew parallel, a strange look upon her face, a similar expression to that she had worn when he had soothed the crazed swift.

  “How did you do that?” she asked.

  “Do what?”

  She pointed below them. “Guide the finch through the waterwheel. Edvin would have trouble steering his prize swift through such a gap, even if he had been training it to do so.”

  Dylap shrugged, it hadn’t been that hard.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted, becoming uncomfortable with Jambilee’s stare. Mercifully she sighed and stared ahead.

  “Not only are you a bird-soother but it would also seem that you possess an insane ability at flight. Still, it was a careless move which could have killed you both. There was no need to impress me further than you already had.”

  “I wasn’t trying to impress you,” Dylap said, shocked that she thought he was showing off. “I was an idiot for flying at such speed, but that was more due to the feeling of freedom that swept me up, adding to my lack of experience.”

  They flew the rest of the way in silence. Returning to the Taming Tree which had become quiet as the rest of the fairies and birds were settling down for the evening.

  He landed the finch beside its nest and began to slide the reins from its head.

  “I’m sorry I snapped at you,” Jambilee said, unbuckling the saddle. “It’s just that I’m having a hard time believing what abilities you are actually capable of. And I get the feeling that you have more secrets hidden.”

  “They’re also hidden from myself. Yet somehow flying feels right. Like I’ve always done it. I don’t know, maybe where I came from all the fairies ride birds and soothing is a common thing. I don’t feel special.”

  “Well, you’re definitely special to Farro. You’ve got a long list of birds with ailments to treat tomorrow.”

  “And my next flying lesson?”

  Jambilee shook her head. “You already fly like you’ve done it for years. Apart from tidying up your posture, there isn’t much else I can teach you.” She stroked the finch along the neck and guided her into her nest. “I’ll meet you here at dawn. We’ve a busy schedule, good night.”

  “Jambilee?” Dylap said, as she began to fly to the house entrance. “May I borrow Noggin this evening?”

  “Of course. He belongs to the tree, so you’ve as much right to ride him as any of us. Why, what are you up to?”

  “I promised the tailors that I would check up on their hummer.”

  “Mr and Mrs Tangilup? They indulge that bird as much as they indulge themselves. No doubt they’ll spoil her. Have you somebody to go with? You cannot go alone.”

  “Yes,” Ebbin said as he glided to the branch above and dropped onto the platform. “I’ll take good care of him, Mistress.”

  “Very well,” Jambilee said, “it seems you two have it all planned out. And I’m not your mistress. If you want to guide your loyalties to a higher being, then call Dylap, Master. A bird-soother outranks Master Sabesto in some fairies’ eyes.”

  “Really?” Dylap asked, feeling uncomfortable again. At least he now knew why the Tangilups acted the way they did around him.

  Ebbin bowed low, sweeping a wing and his arm before him. “May I humbly request to partake in your company this evening, Master?” he asked.

  “Shut up,” Dylap laughed, seeing Ebbin’s shoulders and wings bobbing in time to his own chuckling. Then to Jambilee he wished a good night as he set out to find Noggin.

  “I saw you flying,” Ebbin said as they enticed Noggin from his nest. The squirrel wriggled free from the hole in the trunk and greeted Dylap by licking up one side of his face. “Are you sure you haven’t flown before? I mean, you were as good as Edvin himself.”

  Dylap shrugged. “It felt right, natural - like I had flown before but I still have no memories.”

  He climbed onto Noggin and with Ebbin sliding on behind him, nudged the squirrel into motion. The journey was swift, Noggin finding his way in the dimming light as if it was in the middle of the day. Jumping, leaping and bounding through the city with giddy joy. When they arrived at the tailors, the Tangilups were waiting for them by the hummer, Elaya making a silhouette in the doorway of the shop.

  “Good evening Sir,” Mr Tangilup greeted, taking Noggin’s r
eins as they dismounted. “My wife has your garments ready,” he said, nodding to the bundle of clothes in Mrs Tangilup’s arms, neatly wrapped in a soft ash leaf and tied with twine. “And as you can see, Spit is dressed for her lessons.”

  Taking timid steps, Elaya ventured out onto the branch. She was dressed in a simple mouse leather jerkin and britches, her hair tied back in a thong of the same grey material. The clothes themselves were old and well used but fit her well.

  “Where are your manners girl?” Mrs Tangilup hissed, “What do you say to the gentleman?”

  Elaya’s face flushed as she briefly curtsied, making an awkward shift of the knee as she stumbled straight again.

  “Good evening, Sir,” she said in a sweet voice, yet Dylap heard an obstinate quality to it.

  “Good evening,” Dylap replied, fighting to control the smile that wanted to present itself. “Are you ready to begin your lessons?”

  “Yes, that is, I am, Sir.”

  The grin curled Dylap’s lips no matter how hard it fought to hold it back. “That will be all,” he said to the tailors, taking the parcel of clothes from Mrs Tangilup and handing it to Ebbin. “I will return Elaya once the lesson is completed.”

  He waited until they had shuffled into the shop, both giving him furtive glances as they went. They spoke in hushed tones once the door was closed and he was sure he spotted Mrs Tangilup’s portly form at the window.

  “So, it is true, Sir? You wish to teach me how to fly?” Elaya asked, a slender arm reaching for the hummer.

  “You can drop the Sir,” Dylap chuckled. “Like I told you before, we are friends.”

  Elaya’s forehead furrowed into her riding cap. “I cannot, Sir. You are a bird-soother and I am but a lowly split-wing. If my mistress was to hear me being overly familiar with you, she will pass me on.”

  Dylap glared at the window and ushered Elaya closer to the bird.

  “Then let the lesson begin. The sooner we’re out of earshot the sooner we can both breath.”

  Luckily the Tangilups had the foresight to put the saddle and bridle on the hummer. Dylap had watched Jambilee as she tacked the finch up earlier in the day and it seemed a fiddly job.