Dylap

by A. C. Salter

  “It’s not too lonely?”

  “I’m supposed to be alone,” she began but Dylap finished her sentence for her.

  “You’re a split-wing, I remember.”

  The uneasy silence which followed made Dylap wish he hadn’t spoken. He watched as her hands expertly worked the thread, the needle weaving in and out of the netting. With all her passed jobs, her skills and experience in Farro must be wider spread then any one fairy.

  “As long you’re happy.”

  Elaya nodded, her hair slipping in front of her face and preventing Dylap from reading it. “I’m content. Why did you come?”

  “To see how you are. I had gotten used to seeing you so often that when it stopped I missed you,” he admitted, feeling nervous revealing his feelings in front of Ebbin.

  “I’ll check on Noggin,” Ebbin said, obviously feeling embarrassed and took himself out of the hut.

  After the door was closed, Dylap knelt and brushed the hair away from Elaya’s face. A lone tear ran down the soft skin of her cheek to fall to the floor.

  “What is it?” he asked, feeling a tinge of shame and not knowing why.

  “Dylap,” she began, the muscles in her jaw tightening as she fought to control her emotions. “We cannot be friends. You shouldn’t even be speaking with me.”

  “Says who?” he asked, placing a hand on her shoulder. “The fairies of Farro? They’re a narrow-minded race that dwell too much on status and class. Look what they did to me, almost threw me back into the Twine. I was only good enough to gut worms, and now that I’m a bird-soother it has divided them: some regarding me with a higher respect than I deserve while others deem me a freak. It’s an unfair city with too many opinions and not enough common sense.”

  “With you maybe, but Farro are all agreed on what I am,” she said, her dragonfly wings flexing and knocking his hand from her shoulder. “And I am grateful for their leniency in letting me live and finding me a place. If I jeopardise that, I will forfeit my life.”

  “But they deny you happiness, Elaya,” Dylap said, feeling a rising frustration. “The life you’re living is not your own, it is what they have made you. You must see that.”

  “No Dylap, it is you that must see – I cannot be happy, my purpose is only to be a reminder of the past. To never forget the sacrifices that the city had made in the war. I’m a living memory of all those lives lost, the hurt and devastation. When a Farrosian sees me, they see the death of a husband, a father, a brother or son. To be happy would be to mock that sacrifice.”

  “Elaya…”

  “In another life, maybe we could have been friends or even more. But not in this one, in this one I may only exist to be a reminder, nothing more.”

  The door creaked open and Ebbin stuck his head inside. “Not to try and hasten you Dylap, but the storm is getting closer. I can feel the energy crackling above.”

  Dylap ignored him as he placed a finger against Elaya’s cheek and wiped away another tear.

  “You’re more than that to me,” he said, forcing himself to stand and take a step back. “I will find a way, Elaya. I promise.”

  “Dylap, I can feel the hairs on my arms rising and Noggin is getting twitchy.”

  “Go,” Elaya said, dropping her head.

  “Elaya, I can’t leave you like this. I will make it right, somehow.”

  “Please just leave,” she replied, her wings curling over her as if attempting to blot him out of her life, to have nothing to do with him. Through their transparency, he watched her shoulders heave and shudder. He wanted nothing more than to put is arms around her and hold her close, but it was Ebbin’s arms that reached out to him, to pull him towards the door.

  “Leave it, Dylap, we’ll be back another time, but only if we make it to the Aviary. We shouldn’t have come.”

  Anger drove Dylap to slam the door behind him, the rain falling faster and harder to match his mood. His hand lingered on the carved wood as if he could sense the girl within, yet like the chill now settling over his heart, he only felt the cold.

  A bright flash suddenly rippled above, lighting the canopy so even the higher leaves were visible for a moment before the darkness returned followed by a guttural rumble.

  The thunder vibrated through the trees and inside Dylap’s chest. Deep and unnerving it seemed to roll forever before giving over to the screaming of the wind.

  “Sabesto can fetch his wine himself,” Ebbin yelled above the noise of crashing leaves. “We need to get back.”

  Not feeling as though he needed to be anywhere but with Elaya, Dylap grudgingly accepted Ebbin’s proffered hand and was pulled up onto Noggin. Setting off down the tree, behind them the sky lit up again, this time the storm much closer.

  The atmosphere was heavy and oppressing, as if the weight of the world pressed down on Farro. Twice more the canopy lit up before they left the elm and scurried along the joining-bridge. The rumble of thunder rolled continuously, growling above the wind and filling his head with a tormented laugh. Dylap welcomed it, hoping that it would drown out the thoughts of Elaya.

  They stayed low, Noggin’s usual meandering path as he soaked up as much city as possible, now narrowing to an almost straight line. Cutting through the market and passing the Shroom Tree, the moonflowers closed and swaying along the branches, they hit the base of the hollow tree and climbed vertically up the trunk. Rain cascaded down the bark and fell in heavy drops, some striking them. Dylap tightened his grip around Noggin and lay close to his body, raising his head just enough to see between the squirrel’s ears. Reaching the opening of the halo lift, they made their way through the corridor. Momentarily sheltered from the elements before emerging on the other side. Now above the canopy, Dylap had an open view of the storm and the maelstrom of energy that flared within.

  “It’ll crush Farro,” Ebbin yelled. “Smash it to pieces and wipe us out of existence.”

  “No, it won’t,” Dylap replied, digging his heels in and directing Noggin to the Aviary. They leapt the short gap and hit the platform, the rain and fallen leaves making the deck slippery and the squirrel floundered twice before his claws found purchase.

  The Master House had already prepared for the weather. Bars had been nailed over the shutters and balcony doors, but mercifully the main door was open.

  Dylap paused beside the steps to let Ebbin off.

  “Get inside,” he shouted.

  “You’re not coming?” Ebbin responded, rain plastering his hair to his face.

  Dylap shook his head. “I’m going to take Noggin back and make sure he’s safe. I won’t be long.”

  “Then hurry. I’ll keep the door open for you,” Ebbin said before climbing the steps, the sack of gems bouncing on his back.

  Checking that his friend had made it to the door, Dylap put his heel to Noggin once again and rode the short distance to his shelter. Once inside, he took the saddle and reins off him and shut the door.

  “You’ll be safe enough,” he shouted through the wood before heading back.

  Having to hold onto the rope, he pulled himself along the bridge. The entire structure swung and bounced as the storm battered it from below as well as above. He was soaked to the skin; his fingers numb as he blinked the water from his eyes. Thunder imbued his head, the flash of white filled his sight, he stumbled on. Hand over hand, he clambered forward, his cloak heavy and laden as it was whipped about, threatening to pull him from the bridge.

  He was surprised when his feet found the solid mass of the branch and he leaned into the wind as he drove himself on towards the steps and the main door. Thankfully it opened as he reached the top step, but it wasn’t Ebbin that greeted him.

  “Spoffle?”

  The fairy glared at him, yet instead of the usual sneer his face was full of panic.

  “Is the worm-gutter not with you?” he asked, stepping out into the rain and pulling an oilskin cloak over his head.

  “Ebbin? No, he went inside only moments ago,” Dylap replied.


  Spoffle shook his head. “I’ve been at the door since you left. Sabesto posted me here until you came back. The old fool has been cursing himself for sending you out.”

  “But Ebbin went in, I watched him.” But had he? He only stayed long enough to watch his friend climb the steps, but didn’t actually see him enter. Where could he be?

  “Unless he tried the lower entrance,” Spoffle suggested. “Stupid idiot, that way is locked. Come, I’m not going alone.”

  Dylap followed Spoffle as he took another flight of steps below the branch. It led to a ridge cut into the trunk that wound around to the rear of the tree.

  “I should have waited until he was in,” he berated himself. If anything had happened to Ebbin, he wouldn’t forgive himself.

  The ridge came to an abrupt end at a single door. A dimming gem stone hung above it, swinging against the bark at the mercy of the wind.

  “Where is he?” Dylap asked anxiously.

  “I don’t know,” Spoffle replied, his face a mask of worry as he took the gem from the wall and held it over the ledge. His teeth clenched as he leaned further. “There,” he said, pointing down. “He’s caught in that branch. He must have fallen.”

  “No,” Dylap said as he pushed beside Spoffle. He glanced down but saw nothing but the darkness of the void. “I don’t see him.”

  Lightning blazed along the sky, rifting a tear in the night and lighting up the canopy. Yet Dylap saw no sign of Ebbin. Then he felt Spoffle’s grip as his hand tightened on the back of his cloak.

  “That’s because he’s inside,” he said, his mouth coming close to his ear. “But while we’re here, alone, I want to tell you something.”

  Spoffle’s words came to him as he was suddenly pushed over the edge. His arms flailed but there was no purchase, only his toes touched the ledge and his life lay balanced in Spoffle’s hand.

  The swaying sea lay below him. The canopy stretched into blackness in all directions, the maelstrom pressing tighter, harder and howling with frustration.

  “Tell me what?” Dylap asked, trying to swing himself around, but Spoffle held him in place, he was entirely at his mercy. Nobody could see them, nobody could hear above the storm.

  “You think you’re so clever finding a place in the Taming Tree. The next position there should have been mine. Not a ground-dwelling freak like you. It’s bad enough having a base-born fairy like Jambilee throwing her weight around, but at least she can fly. You on the other hand can’t.”

  “Spoffle?”

  “My cousin told me to make it quick, make it seem like an accident…after all, if you live in a tree and can’t fly you will inevitably…” Spoffle released his grip of the cloak, “fall.”

  There was a moment where the world stopped spinning, where he could almost believe that he could simply climb back up onto the safety of the ledge, yet as his heart struck the next beat, gravity reached up and ripped him from the tree, and the sky, the void and the storm welcomed him with open arms.

  15

  Storm-Kissed

  The fall took longer than he thought. His body tumbling end-over-end, his vision filled with sky, then the tall red and the grinning face of Spoffle shrinking before revealing the canopy below – endlessly spinning as the elements tore at his limbs and clothes. He was a slave to death, a toy to be smashed and crushed. Dylap couldn’t remember if he prayed to any gods in his life before the Twine, or if he, like the majority of Thea, prayed to the Blessed Mother. In any sense, praying would be a waste of time, there was no escaping his fate. At the very least, he had gotten to see Elaya a final time.

  Wet leaves snapped beneath him as he plummeted through the upper layer of the canopy, his arms held protectively over his head broke twigs as his fall carried him through to the upper reaches of Farro. The rough bark of an oak raced by a span from his face, windows disappearing before he could focus on them, the tree limbs making whoomping sounds as he passed, rain bouncing up, lightning bleaching the world white before the darkness consumed the city once again.

  Did he want to see the approaching branch that would kill him, or the twig that would impale him? Maybe he would miss everything to be smashed against the ground. If only he had a length of spider silk, yet he doubted that could save him, such was the speed of his descent.

  Out of the darkness a bridge rushed up to meet him. Glistening with rain the ropes would break his spine, if not cut him in two. A gruesome way to go, but at least mercifully quick. Then he saw the waterwheel beneath and the dark snake that was a stream. If he could just clear the bridge, maybe he would crash into the water.

  Grasping the ends of his cloak, Dylap attempted to angle the material to catch the wind and alter the trajectory of his fall. The force almost ripped the cloth from his hands before he gained control and caught what air he could. He hoped it was enough.

  His legs straight behind him, Dylap tucked his arms close to his body and held his breath.

  The ropes of the bridge whooshed by but his foot caught on the planking and sent him reeling out, spinning so fast he didn’t know which way was up or down. Losing sight of the wheel, Dylap tried to find the ends of his cloak again, but was overwhelmed with dizziness.

  His focus returned long enough to see that he had missed the stream altogether and was heading directly for its bank and the large slab of rock beside it.

  Fear gripped him to the core. Hope was lost – he was going to die.

  Closing his eyes, he filled his head with the thoughts of Elaya and his friend Ebbin and all those who were nice to him. If he was going to die he wanted his last thoughts to be happy ones. It still didn’t stop his muscles from tensing, the inevitable coming of the rock. The imminent death, would he feel any pain?

  An image of Elaya came to his mind. The day he saw her at the pond when she dropped the soap for him. She was beautiful. He held that place dear. Even the black monster couldn’t mire it.

  A screech cut through the air, piercing his thoughts. He snapped his eyes open as lightning flashed through Farro to reveal the rock in its clarity. It was then that the falcon struck.

  The breath was crushed from his lungs as the bird hit him side on. Snatching him from certain death as it soared between trees at almost the same speed as the fall.

  It took a moment for Dylap to realise what had happened. His disorientation only righting itself as the falcon carried him over the market place, bearing him higher until they emerged into the clearing. The obelisk was glowing with blue ripples that throbbed in time to the storm. A strange phenomenon, it was as if the structure was connected to the lightning itself.

  The monster’s talons squeezed tighter. Had he been saved or was his body lying in pieces on the rock and the bird merely carrying his soul to the next life?

  No, he decided. His ribs hurt too much for him to be out of his body. He was alive, but only until the falcon gutted and ate him.

  Now free of the trees around it, the bird ascended, leaving the clearing far below. They flew above the canopy, the tall reds and the Palace poking above like tombs to mark the unforgiving city. Higher and higher they rose until even the tombs blended in with the canopy and the icy fingers of the clouds began to grip onto his clothes and press against his skin.

  Lightning forked from the heavens to rip the sky beside them. The burst of energy crackling as it scorched the rain and causing the bird to scream in protest, yet still it flew higher. Thunder roared, filling his chest and driving any air from his lungs.

  If he’d had the strength, Dylap may have fought the falcon. But his arms were weak and he couldn’t feel his legs. The stupid bird was hell-bent on killing them both. It was as if it was demented, crazed.

  With his life ebbing away, Dylap put one last effort into moving his arm. His fingers flexing as he reached above the constricting weight of the falcon’s talons, to touch its leg. He sought to make a link but couldn’t. He needed more flesh.

  The ground was consumed by clouds as they flew above the storm, the lightening flick
ering below in the broiling sea as it turned in circles above Farro. The opposite of what was now above.

  A world of stars shone down, brighter than he had ever seen before and the moon appeared so big that he thought he could reach out and touch it. It was beautiful. A fitting sight to die with.

  The falcon screeched as it soared directly over the spinning storm, its wings cast wide to ride on the thermals.

  Feeling that this was his only chance, Dylap reached until his arm felt as though it would come out of his socket and placed his hand on the bird’s leg.

  He felt a connection. A spark of recognition as if he had met this bird long ago. He had made this link before, but didn’t know how that was possible. This immense bird had tried to kill him both times they had previously met.

  Easy, he portrayed. Take me down.

  He became aware of the falcon’s strength, not only in body but in mind and as the monster sensed him, it screamed so loud it blotted out the thunder.

  Following the scream, a thousand images came rushing through Dylap’s mind. Visions of the forest from a million different angles and places. Fairies, palaces, people – he thought he briefly saw the panicked face of Genili the baker’s apprentice as she was snatched. Her scream matching that of the falcon’s, until the connection broke.

  Dylap struggled to find the connection again, the bird had somehow blocked him out of its mind.

  Then it simply let him go.

  Dylap plummeted towards the centre of the storm leaving the starry world behind. He had survived the first fall only to experience death all over again. Maybe the falcon couldn’t bear to eat a creature who had linked with it. Discarding him to move onto other prey. It screamed at him as he fell, a passing farewell.

  His cloak caught the wind and was violently tossed above his head, the string around his neck pulling so tight it choked him. He squeezed his fingers beneath the cord, attempting to release the pressure from his throat, but it snapped. The material disappearing as he entered the storm.

  It was then that he saw that his spines were rippling with the same strange blue light as the obelisk. He could feel the energy crackling along them, sparking like tiny lightning strikes running up and down and arcing between.