Dylap

by A. C. Salter

  “Yeah, there is that, well, if you’re certain, I guess I’ll see you for breakfast,” Ebbin said as he pushed aside the vines and slipped out of the nook.

  Alone with his thoughts and the pain which grated, pulsed and whined from a hundred different places on his battered body, Dylap attempted to settle back against the soft ferns which made his bed. His head boomed in rhythm with his heart, a dull throb which only increased as the tree began to rock with the wind. The creaks and groans of the tall red digging into his bruised mind. He reached out to the lantern to turn it off, his arm screaming in complaint and he felt wetness trickle through the bandages on his hand. Deciding that the gem was now so dim it wasn’t worth the effort, he lay still, his one good eye focusing on the gem as it became weaker and weaker. It needed charging of course, but the gem collector never came this far up the tall red.

  A painful smile caused a tick at the corner of his mouth as an idea came to him. One which might bring his path to Elaya if he played it carefully. He let his mind wander over the details while he listened to the first raindrops of the coming storm begin to tap down the leaves and branches outside the nook.

  Dylap awoke to darkness and to the onslaught of pain which had tortured his dreams. Dawn should have begun to show its grey light by now, but the thick clouds kept the world shrouded. His feet were cold and felt damp and when he investigated he found that the ferns in the nook were saturated with water. The storm had persisted through the night to the next day and through into night again. He kept to the nook as nobody ventured out in the harsh weather. He listened as the rain cascaded down the trunk, soaking the vines and making a pool inside his home.

  Shaking the remnants of a nightmare from his head, he slipped into his jerkin, put on his boots and grasped the empty basket, which was floating in a puddle on its own; the weave, now sodden and spoiling the bread inside. On his way out, he took the gem lantern and pushed through the vines.

  The tall reds were eerily deserted, even though there should have been fairies about doing their duties. He had become accustomed to waking later now that he worked in the Taming Tree, meeting Ebbin in the food hall when he returned from his worm gutting duties. Yet he was nowhere to be seen. Shuffling along the branch to the steps, he ventured up onto the platform, the wood slick with rain and fallen leaves – one false step onto one of those and he would be sliding straight off the tree into the void.

  The door to the Master House was firmly shut, he rapped several times before somebody opened it.

  “Dylap?” Ebbin greeted him as he stood aside to allow him inside the tree. “I was about to come and get you. How did the nook hold out against the rain?”

  Dylap held up the drenched basket. “Not very well,” he said. “The nook now has its own bathing pool. Why haven’t you collected the worms yet?”

  Ebbin closed the door and they both walked to the food hall, the corridors busier than usual.

  “We can’t fly in this. It’s dangerous enough flying in the rain, but add the wind and lightning and it would be suicide. Sabesto has called off the duties until the storm passes. Only the vital tasks are to be done.”

  They entered the food hall and began to help themselves to the pastries and breads which the cook had unceremoniously dumped on the main table. It appeared that when there was nothing else to do, eating was the favoured pastime. Dylap had never seen the hall so busy.

  “Let’s sit over by the hearth and dry you out,” Ebbin suggested as he carried an arm full of food to a bench by the large glowing gem stone.

  Thankful for the warmth it radiated, Dylap sat down and held his damp hands over the stone, his back to the room and hiding his bruised face and black eye.

  “What are the birds going to eat if you’re not collecting worms today?” Dylap asked.

  “Dried meal grubs,” Ebbin replied, screwing his face up. “There’s conker carts full in the store in case of emergencies. I’ve fed them already.” He stuffed a pastry in his mouth as he carried on talking. “My guess is that you won’t be doing much in the Taming Tree either.” His gaze fell to the gem lantern that Dylap had set by his feet.

  “And I doubt you’ll be able to replace that today, the gem collector won’t be about his business in the storm.”

  “But what about the rest of the gems, are there any spare in the stores?”

  Ebbin shook his head. “They only last for a few days so there isn’t much point in storing them. If needs be, Master Sabesto will allow the use of fire. Only small flames and only under strict supervision. An idle flame could destroy Farro if left to rage out of control.”

  Now that he felt his fingers warming through, Dylap began to eat, chewing slowly as his jaw was still painful.

  “Sabesto said no flying but what about walking? Could we not cross the city to the gem chargers and collect our own?”

  Ebbin’s forehead creased as he paused mid-bite, he gave a Dylap a curious look before he broke into a smile. “This is more to do with seeing Elaya than it has to do with your lantern, tell me the truth.”

  Dylap grinned. “It wouldn’t do any harm to check on her, would it?”

  “I suppose not. But I doubt Sabesto would let us risk the storm for a single gem.”

  “Unless we filled the beetle cart and replaced all the gems in the Aviary. It wouldn’t be a wasted trip then.”

  Ebbin frowned. “Wouldn’t work. We’d need to travel along the high boughs to reach the gem-charging fields on the canopy. There’s no path wide enough for the beetle cart.”

  “What about Noggin? He can get anywhere.”

  “Maybe, but he belongs to the Taming Tree. You would need to get permission from the tree leader. I know Edvin likes you, but would he risk letting you have the squirrel?”

  “No harm in asking.”

  Ebbin shrugged. “I suppose not.”

  After a filling breakfast and Dylap’s clothes were dry, they made their way to Master Sabesto’s office after filling a sack with all the dulling gems they could find.

  Feeling nervous, Dylap knocked on the door.

  “Enter,” the master boomed from the other side.

  Tentatively, they opened the door and entered the office. The balcony doors were open, the wind tearing at one of the large shutters and rattling its hinges. Master Sabesto was sitting in his rocker, legs up on the chair and nursing a bottle of wine. He pointed it at them as they shuffled forwards.

  “Not seen a storm like this for years. Years of years,” he said, his words slurring. “And there’ll be plenty more to come. The Blessed Mother is truly upset, her tears may drown us all.” He swigged deeply from the bottle, tipping his head back as he swallowed. A single line of red trailed down his chin and he absently wiped it with the back of his hand. “I like a good storm,” he continued, cradling the bottle. “Reminds us just how fragile life is, how insignificant fairies are.”

  Sabesto swung the bottle around and pointed it at Dylap. “But not you, you’re different, made of different stuff.”

  “How do mean, Sir?” Dylap asked, noticing the other empty bottles lying about the chamber.

  “You survived the Twine,” Sabesto said, stifling a belch as he rose. He crossed the room on unsteady legs until he reached the open doors of the balcony. Leaning against the wall he up-ended the bottle and drained it, spilling more down his chin.

  Ebbin glanced at Dylap, his face an open confusion of not knowing what to do.

  “I was lucky,” Dylap told Sabesto, trying to keep his master focused on them. He didn’t like the look in Sabesto’s eyes. He appeared haunted as if his attempts at drowning his demons only made them worse.

  “Luck? I don’t believe in luck. There’s those that the gods have a purpose for – those that they will gladly keep from harm and away from death’s ugly clutches. You have a purpose, Dylap. The gods only know what yours is, but they’re looking out for you. Then, there’s the rest of us. Worthless, creatures that live to serve and die on a whim.”

  “Maste
r, I think that’s the wine talking,” Dylap suggested, hating seeing him in this state.

  “Frog snot to the wine, it’s piss weak anyway,” he stammered as he attempted to wring a final mouthful from it. When he realised it was empty, he held it up to eye-level, shrugged and hurled it out over the balcony. The effort swung him off balance and he turned the motion into a backwards walk where he crashed into his seat. A smile reaching his unshaven face when time caught up, and he realised that he had found himself sitting on his rocker and not the floor.

  “What is it you two want anyway?” he asked as he began to root around his desk searching for another drink. “What have you brought to my door this time bird-soother?”

  “Sun gems, Sir,” Dylap said, turning to Ebbin for help.

  “Gems?” Sabesto repeated, momentarily pausing from opening drawers to gaze at them. “What do you want gems for?”

  “We will need lighting, and due to the extra food that the cooks are laying on, they are running short of gems for the ovens,” Ebbin explained. “As the collector won’t come to the tall reds, especially in a storm, and the fact that we aren’t permitted to fly, we were wondering if perhaps we should trek to the charging fields on Noggin.”

  “Noggin?” Sabesto scowled. “Out of the question. Have you seen the storm outside, boy? Even with him with you,” he said gesturing a shaky finger towards Dylap, “and the Blessed Mother knows how the gods favour him, it’s too dangerous. We can live without light and warm food for a couple of days.”

  The master slammed the drawers shut and then rested his head sulkily in meaty hands, elbows sliding around the top of his desk. He blew air through his lips like a child who’d had his toys taken from him.

  “The taverns are on the way home,” Dylap suggested, feeling guilt at using his master’s weakness against him. But he was desperate to see Elaya and Sabesto would find a drink whether it was by his hands or not.

  Sabesto regarded him angrily, deep creases burrowing furrows in his brow. He rubbed his chin, stubble scraping along his thumbs as his words sunk in.

  “I don’t like it,” he mumbled, his gaze wandering back to the open doors and the storm beyond. “But you bring a handsome argument. So be it. Take the squirrel, go straight there and come straight back. No dawdling at the charging fields and no loitering in the taverns. I’ve got enough guilt on my conscience without adding the lives of others.”

  “We can go?” Ebbin asked, sounding as shocked as Dylap felt.

  “Yes, go, but stay close to him,” Sabesto said, nodding towards Dylap. “If only one of you comes back, my coin would be on him.”

  “I can’t believe he agreed to it,” Ebbin said as they left the office, their boots tapping along the corridor. “I was sure he would deny us, even whilst under the influence.”

  “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Dylap said, sensing that Ebbin would have preferred it if Sabesto had refused them.

  “I’m coming, but at the first sign of lightning we’re coming back – with or without the drink.”

  “Agreed.”

  From the main door, they ran across the platform and over the bridge to the Taming Tree, only pausing to hold tight to the rope as a raindrop struck the swaying planking and splashed them from head to foot. Wind tore at Dylap’s cloak, whipping out as Ebbin struggled to keep his wings from being forced open in the blast. In the end, he held them closed with his hands as he leaned into the gale and marched the remainder of the way to Noggin’s shelter. They found the squirrel inside, curled up and looking utterly fed up. When he saw them, his ears pricked up.

  “Do you want to go across the city?” Dylap asked, stroking his head. In answer, Noggin licked up the side of his cheek, catching his bruises but it didn’t hurt enough to keep his grin from forming.

  It took them a few short moments to strap the saddle on and fix the reins, then they were bounding down the tall red, the sack of gems bouncing in Ebbin’s lap.

  Noggin skipped over the bark as if the storm wasn’t there at all. Rogue leaves whistled passed, barely missing them as they smacked into trunks and branches. The thinner branches swaying while the twigs whipped about in an excitable dance of the wind. Dylap held tight, it was clear why they saw no other fairies other than the silhouettes of heads and shoulders from the windows they passed. Nobody would be out in this through choice. He had doubts whether he had made the right choice himself, but then how else would he see Elaya?

  Noggin skipped along the thick branches of an oak before darting along the limbs of an ash tree, leaping when he reached the end and landing on the trunk of an elm.

  “He’s not holding back any, is he?” Ebbin shouted from behind.

  “Noggin likes to be out and about,” Dylap replied. “I think he’s excited to be out of his shelter. Most bad weather would see him tied up and lonely.”

  “Well, he’s making up for it now.”

  At the top of the elm they came to a joining-bridge with the neighbouring tree, but instead of running along the top, Noggin simply dug his claws into the underbelly of the structure and they scrambled to the other side upside down.

  “Ouch!” Ebbin complained, as the sack of gems swung against his head. “That hurt.”

  Then as they ran down the tree the sack bounced against the back of Dylap’s head, adding pain to the soreness he was already feeling.

  “Slow down Noggin,” he said pulling gently on the reins.

  The squirrel slowed a little but soon eased up to the dramatic speed he had been doing before as they hopped, dashed and darted over the black rowan and up the oak that would take them to the charging fields.

  The canopy swayed like a turbulent sea, the green leaves appearing almost black with the rain and lack of sun. Wide netting had been cast over the oak. Thousands of gem stones lay in sacks along the netting like bundles of fish eggs, glowing brightly in amber waves.

  “I’ve never been this close to the fields before. Mesmerising, isn’t it?” Ebbin said as he climbed off Noggin and began to empty the sack of dull gems and replace them with brighter ones.

  “Beautiful,” Dylap agreed. “But where is Elaya?”

  “What in Juvan’s fiery circle are you two doing up here?” shouted a fae as he climbed through the canopy, a rope tied around his waist. He had an oilskin coat that covered his body and a hood which hid most of his face. Dylap recognised him as the gem collector who pushes the trolley along the berry trail in the early hours.

  “We came to swap gem stones,” Ebbin explained, holding the sack of fresh stones. “There was no collection earlier and the Aviary has need of them.”

  “Damn fool’s errand coming out in this,” the cloaked fairy said, his hood swinging between them both. “Have you not seen the approaching storm?”

  “The storm came the other night and it’s been pouring down for the last two days,” Ebbin said, shaking his head as if the statement was absurd.

  “No, not this, you idiot, that,” replied the gem collector, pointing into the distance.

  Dylap gazed in the direction he was indicating and saw a large black blotch on the horizon, hovering above the vast canopy and stretching high up into the slate sky. It spun slowly, immense dark tendrils forming the cloud, forked lightning flickering around its base and sparkling from within.

  “By the Blessed Mother…It’s huge.”

  “When that thing hits Farro, you want to be inside a tree, or you’ll be burnt to charcoal when the lightning strikes. Gems or not, Sabesto should have known better than to send you.”

  “It was our choice,” Dylap said coming to his master’s defence and sounding harsher than intended. “And we also came to check on our friend, Elaya.”

  The collector eyed him curiously, his gaze wandering over his clothes to settle on his spines that struck out beneath his cloak. Any surprise was hidden beneath the hood, yet Dylap heard the change in his voice,

  “The split-wing? She’s below, sewing sacks and fixing netting.”

&
nbsp; Dylap nudged Noggin a step closer. “May we see her?”

  Again, the hood swung between them before the collector spoke. “You don’t have long,” he said, nodding towards the approaching lightning cloud. “That will be upon us soon.”

  “We won’t need long, thank you,” Dylap said as they followed the collector beneath the canopy and along the finer branches to a row of huts which circled the trunk of the tree.

  “She’ll be in that one,” he said, pointing at a hut, the door firmly closed. “But don’t take her mind from her work, with this wind there’ll be a lot of repairs to do.”

  Tying Noggin’s reins to a twig, Dylap tapped on the hut’s door before opening it. Inside they found Elaya, sitting on the floor, a large net laying in her lap as she used a needle and thread to weave the parts together. She looked up as they entered, a dimming gem revealing her gorgeous smile as she recognised them. It soon melted as he stepped fully into the hut.

  “Dylap? What happened to your face?” she asked, setting the netting down.

  “It’s nothing,” he replied, trying not to drip any rain from his clothes onto the dry floor, yet his feet left damp prints. “I fell.”

  “That was clumsy,” she said offishly as if she could see through the lies and knew the truth. “I would offer you a seat, but as you can see,” she waved a hand around the room, the needle glinting in the gem light,” I have little furniture.”

  The room was bare, save for a blanket neatly folded in the corner by a fern needle broom.

  “Do you sleep in here?” Ebbin asked as he squeezed beside Dylap. “It’s barely large enough to lie down in.”

  “It is ample. And at least I’m not sharing the space with stores or stacks of cloth or dirty laundry.”

  “So, you’re happy here?” Dylap asked.

  “It’s as good a position as any. I’m left alone as long as my work is done and the collectors shout a lot less than my previous masters.”