Dylap

by A. C. Salter

  Thunder boomed all around, engulfing his body as it roared like a wild animal of the gods. The pressure inside his head increased, his brain vibrating inside his skull, threatening to fall to pieces. He flattened his hands over his ears but the noise was relentless, shaking his entire body.

  White flashes erupted below and above with such frequency that his world was permanently flickering before his eyes as he was tossed about like a raindrop, slowly being crushed into a hail stone. With each flash, his spines extended out to their fullest span, pulsing with the heartbeat of the storm. He thought he had experienced pain after Urlmince’s beating, but that was nothing compared to the onslaught that now racked his body. As the lightning tortured his spines it shocked other parts of him, as if the freak appendages on his back were linked by threads to the rest: feet, toes, legs and arms, his fingers and even the nails – all extending out, blue light radiated through every fibre.

  A scream pierced the rolling thunder, high and shrill it cut across the sky, full of pain and terror. When Dylap’s throat began to burn he realised the scream came from himself.

  Through the pressure, the hurt and the torture, Dylap was certain he was about to die. If he wasn’t ripped apart by the storm, he would explode against the forest floor when he eventually reached it.

  A bolt of lightning arced through the clouds, striking across others as it shot towards him. This was followed by another, a forked shock that rode on the first. Then with each new flash more streams of lightning came in his direction, all striking at the same time. Engulfing his body with its immense power.

  The lightning suddenly ceased, vanishing as quick as it came, stealing his life in the same instant. His heart stopped, the thunder had gone. The world was dark, his pain had diminished to a subtle buzz that hovered at the edges of his senses. He couldn’t feel his body - he didn’t know if he still had a body. His last thoughts were of Elaya as his body tumbled down, the wind whistling in his ears fading as death reached out to claim what was left.

  Dilbus pulled on the oilskin cloak. The storm had abruptly stopped and the deluge of rain had ebbed to nothing, yet the water that had already fallen to the canopy was still making its way down, filtering through the foliage. He and Limble were set for their journey up river and he wasn’t about to begin in sodden clothes. Dawn was about to break and he wanted to be out of the city before the fae went about their business.

  Through the small gaps in the leaves above, he could see that the clouds had begun to dissolve, giving way to the few stars that remained in the sky.

  “Don’t you find it odd, Sir?” Limble asked as he strapped his pack to the thrush. The brown-feathered bird attempted to nip him but retracted its beak when he saw the stern glare of Dilbus’s second-in-command. “The storm I mean. How it suddenly stopped as if it couldn’t be bothered anymore. Now it’s almost gone as if it hadn’t been there in the first place.”

  “Odd yes,” Dilbus agreed, eyeing the clear sky and the black monster which soared above, gliding where only an hour ago the raging maelstrom had been. It was as if the bad omen had scared away the thunder itself. “But we’re going to take full advantage of it. I want to be leagues north before the sun breaks above the canopy.”

  He adjusted his belt and climbed onto his own bird. The finch seemingly in a foul mood and it took some cajoling before she hopped to the edge of the branch and dropped into a dive, wings casting out as they flew between the trees towards the Twine. As they neared the clearing he saw a lantern glowing dimly from the ground, it was being swung about to get their attention.

  “Who’s that?” Limble shouted as he guided his thrush over a bridge that had sagged with the weight of water on its planks.

  “I don’t know and I don’t care. Let the night watch deal with it. We’ve more pressing matters.” The night watch was now commanded by a freshly promoted captain from the royal guard. A position that would be permanent unless Dilbus could come up with something to please the general.

  “Are you sure, Sir? He seems very excitable.”

  Dilbus glared at his subordinate and then at the light on the ground which had begun to swing frantically.

  “Frog snot,” he hissed under his breath as he leaned on the bird and descended to the ground.

  The tall blades of grass were leaning over at harsh angles, the rain and wind having bent and twisted them flat. It made landing easier although he would be damned if he was going to climb off the bird and get his boots wet.

  “It’s the brownie, Sir,” Limble said as the tall rangy creature rushed over to them, his scruffy hat sitting askew on his head.

  “I can see that, Limble, thank you,” then turning to the approaching brownie he held up an arm to calm him. “What do you want?”

  The brownie knelt over, hands on his hips as he caught his breath, sweat running down from beneath his hat and into the creases of his nose.

  “It’s Dylap,” he said between breaths. “He’s over by the roots of the oak, covered in spindly web. I think he might be…possibly…likely dead.”

  “Dylap? Dead?” Dilbus mumbled, now that would be a game changer. That would solve a lot of problems. He immediately felt guilty for thinking of himself and not the loss of life. Yes, it would be fortunate in the sense that he would get his job back and things in Farro would go on, but he had liked the flightless fairy. Even more so when he learned that the general’s son, Urlmince, had wet himself after touching those spines.

  “Show me,” he ordered, wanting to see the body with his own eyes.

  “This way,” said the brownie as he dashed back across the clearing to the roots system. Resigned to the fact that he would be getting his boots wet, Dilbus slid from the finch and trudged after.

  As they neared the roots of the oak, Dilbus stared up and noticed that there were several webs, one above the other and stacking half way up the trunk. Beads of rain glistened from the strands and although something heavy had broken through the middle of them, it was clear to see that the irregular web patterns were cast in haste.

  They climbed over a gnarled root and onto a rock revealing a creature that was snarled up in the spider silk. Taking the lantern from the brownie, Dilbus held it over the strange beast and glanced back. Whatever it was, it had fallen through all those webs to land on the rock.

  He placed the lantern down and edged closer to the head end, the spider thread had already been pulled back to reveal a pale face. A face which he recognised.

  “Dylap,” he muttered, placing the back of his hand against the marble like cheek. It was clammy and cold to the touch.

  “Is he dead?” Limble asked as he shuffled closer.

  Placing fingers to Dylap’s neck he felt for a pulse but found none. “I think so,” he replied. Then taking a knife from his belt began to cut the strands away, pulling back on the silk until the body was free and rolled out of the spider cocoon. Putting his knife away, he leaned down and placed his ear to the boy’s chest.

  Nothing.

  “At least this will save us the trip up river,” he said to Limble. He should feel happy in that, but he didn’t. The end to a lot of worries lay at his feet and instead of experiencing relief he felt loss. He knew there was no malevolence in Dylap, even if the boy didn’t know it himself unless his memories returned. If not, he was forever to be the Dylap, the creature dragged from the Twine.

  “Poor Dylap,” the Brownie sniffled as he took off his hat and began to wring it in his hands. “The only fairy who ever treated me nice.”

  “You were friends?” Dilbus asked.

  The brownie nodded, any words being choked up in his throat with tears.

  “Are you sure you’re sure, Captain?” Limble asked, staring at the cadaver, shifting uncomfortably away from the spines. “We thought he was dead the last time, only for him to sting you and scare the snot out of the rest of the watch.”

  “Look up, Limble,” Dilbus said pointing at the row of broken webs. “He’s fallen from an incredible height, broke
n through all those before hitting this rock,” he slammed his clenched fist against the cold granite for emphasis. “Surviving the Twine or not, nothing could live through that kind of fall. It’s like what the general told me only a few days ago, things that live in the trees and can’t fly will inevitably…”

  An icy sickness chilled Dilbus’s guts as he realised that Dylap had most likely been pushed. It was murder. Cold, calculated, merciless murder. He knew his superior was capable. Especially after what Dylap had done to his son.

  “What is it, Sir?”

  “Life,” Dilbus sighed. “It’s as unfair as it is cruel.” It was murder - is what he wanted to say. But without proof he could do nothing about it. Even if he had the proof, he doubted anybody would listen.

  His gaze fell on the spines poking from beneath Dylap’s back. The long tendrils that marked him as a freak, that had been the fairy’s undoing since he awoke on the river bank. He had an impulse to touch one. To hold it like he did the last time he had found the body. He found himself drawn like a child knowing that he mustn’t try his father’s smoke pipe, it was foul stuff, but you would try anyway, a child’s curiosity.

  Before he knew what he was doing, he held the spine between finger and thumb. The cold hard strand flexing as he lifted it.

  It seemed so ridiculous now. These spines that had caused torment and marked him out to be different, to be a freak, to be murdered.

  A jolt of energy suddenly forced his hand to involuntarily grip. His entire arm shook with the effort as he began to sense heat in his palm. Raw and hot the heat increased until he felt pain all over his body and he was thrown on his back.

  “Captain?” Limble cried as he climbed down the rock to his aid.

  Dilbus raised himself up, the tang of metal in his mouth making his tongue itch. His blazing hand cooled in the wet earth of the ground as his clothes soaked up the water. What had just happened?

  “Dylap?” The brownie muttered, dropping his hat to grasp the lantern. “Dylap?” he repeated, holding the gem over the body as the cadaver sat up, silver-blue eyes opening wide for a moment before he collapsed back.

  “He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s aaalive,” the brownie sang, dancing a jig on the rock.

  “By the Blessed Mother, he’s done it again,” Limble said, his mouth hanging open on a slack face.

  A shadow passed above them and a brown-winged fairy landed on the rock. Dilbus found him familiar, but couldn’t place where he had seen him before.

  “Merrybone?” the newcomer said as he rushed to his side. “Is it Dylap? Is he hurt?”

  “He’s hurt Ebbin. Taken quite a tumble but mercifully he’s alive,” the brownie replied.

  Merrybone, Dilbus thought. Since when did we begin to name ground-dwellers? Then as his memory caught up, he recognised the fairy as being the one he had seen that morning some weeks ago on the berry trail as he led Dylap to collect the worms.

  “What do you know about this?” Dilbus asked Ebbin, waving his hand over Dylap and the broken webs above.

  “Not a lot, Sir,” the boy replied. “We were late arriving back at the Aviary last night. We barely made it before the storm. I went inside and waited while Dylap took the squirrel back to the Taming Tree. But he never came home, the storm had him.”

  “And Master Sabesto didn’t think to tell the night watch?”

  Ebbin shook his head. “The master was out in the rain and the thunder, searching the Aviary and even tried to fly down to the ground. Spoffle had told us that he had seen Dylap swept from the bridge as he came across. He watched his body slam into the branch below before tumbling out into the void. Master Sabesto wanted to find the body, even attempting to fly down himself. It took more than a few of us to drag him back inside.” Ebbin returned his attention to his friend who lay unconscious, his chest rising and falling and looking no more hurt than a fairy asleep. “I’m just thankful he’s alive. There’s a search party out to recover what was left of him.”

  “He fell from the Aviary?” Dilbus repeated. “That was some wind to bring him this far out, and some distance to fall. It seemed those webs may have saved his life.”

  Ebbin grinned as he placed a hand to Dylap’s brow. “Master Sabesto said that the gods have a purpose for him. I’m beginning to believe those words.”

  “Other than torment, I don’t see what business the gods have with him. He doesn’t have knowledge of his past,” Dilbus said as he attempted to wipe the muck from his clothes but only succeeded in spreading the mud around. “Might I suggest putting him in that beetle cart there, and taking him up to the Aviary? He’s going to need healers and rest.”

  “Aren’t we going with them?” Limble asked, his slack face regaining enough composure to bite his lips in confusion.

  “No, we’ve a job to do remember? This is Sabesto’s responsibility now.”

  He trudged towards his bird, putting the scene behind him, wishing he could put his troubles behind him too. But now that Dylap was plainly alive, his troubles had returned and he had a sinking feeling that they may get a lot worse. “And you can stop laughing,” he growled at his finch who eyed him curiously as he approached. She shook her head and began to preen herself, ignoring his little outburst.

  Climbing onto her back, he tapped her flanks with muddy boots and once again took to the air.

  16

  Guilt & Dust

  Dylap rocked in time with the cart, only becoming vaguely aware as he drifted in and out of consciousness. He could feel it sway but it was like being a passenger inside his own body and he had no control over his movements. But he could feel the pain. Every knot or stone the wheels bumped over and every time the beetle’s foot struck the wood, a fresh wave of fire sparkled through his limbs, his torso and head. He throbbed from a thousand places, even his hair hurt, yet his spines burned fiercer than all the other pains put together.

  He attempted to close his mind off, to slip back into the blackness.

  “Almost there Dylap,” Ebbin said, bringing him back from the brink, his voice reaching him through a thick fog and sounding distant. “We’ll get you fixed up.”

  Daylight filtered through his eyelids, filling his vision with a pink blur. He watched shadows dance in the haze, long dark beams of the trees as they ascended, yet was unable to see anything clearly.

  “I found him,” Ebbin shouted to another as the cart climbed a rise and flattened out. “Fetch the master.”

  Dylap heard footsteps fading away and weak voices chattering. He was on the platform.

  “Alive? Where?” This was the unmistakable boom of Sabesto, his heavy footfalls nearing. “Take him to his quarters,” he ordered and Dylap felt a heavy hand placed down on his forehead. The contact sent him deeper into his delirium as if his mind couldn’t take any more pain and distanced itself from his body.

  “Master, he has no quarters. He sleeps in a nook below the platform,” Ebbin explained.

  “Why? It doesn’t matter.”

  Dylap felt thick arms push beneath his body and he was lifted, felt his own arms bouncing as he was carried, his head lolling from side to side before resting against Sabesto’s solid chest.

  “You, fetch the healers, you get me some water,” the master commanded, his voice so close to Dylap’s ear that he could feel the words vibrate, smell the stale wine that carried along with them. “Don’t just stand there Spoffle, open the doors.”

  At the name, Dylap’s lids flicked open in shock. Daylight filled his eyes, bright and consuming yet he saw through the pain to focus on Spoffle. Guilt, shock and shame was set into his murderer’s face. He turned his back to open the master doors and stepped out of the way. Dylap tried to speak, yet only a moan escaped his mouth.

  Mercifully the light gave way to darkness as they entered the tree, Master Sabesto marching down the corridor towards the atrium to his office. Where was he taking him? He momentarily paused outside the chamber that once belonged to his son, now over a decade dead. The carved birds on the d
oor slowly swam out of focus as Dylap’s lids began to close and he drifted away. But not before sensing Sabesto kick the door open and enter inside the room that nobody had stepped into for over ten years.

  The pain in his head rose to a screaming crescendo and he was once again dragged down into the darkness.

  Dreams ruled his world. Visions of pleasant vistas in faraway places. Fairies and creatures, he had never met: singing, dancing and entertaining him. The dreamscapes took him high up into mountains, across the forest to the mighty cliffs that looked down onto the crashing waves of the sea. To the rocky ice palaces and into glades of a different realm. Yet the pleasantries shared his world with nightmares. The pain and the fear he felt but didn’t know why. The terror of others; Genili in particular, her mouth pulled back in a silent scream as she was snatched by a dark being. He saw Ebbin, heard his voice as he tried to soothe him, felt the cold damp of a cloth placed to his head and now and again when he had the strength, he opened his eyes, yet the room before him was a lie. Elaya’s tears, her head resting against his chest, her fingers interlaced within his. He would sometimes think he was awake, yet Elaya must be a dream. Sabesto would deny a split-wing in the Aviary, he hated them.

  At one point, he thought he had awoken to a giant standing over him, feeding him mushroom soup, at another there was a sister to the Blessed Mother, singing prayers until she was ushered out by the master. A healer telling Sabesto that he had burnt a second set of linen, scorching lines where his spines had been laying.

  Through all this the pain remained. Stinging, burning, sparkling pain in all its glory. A maelstrom of agony that would match the storm he had passed through. He relived the fall from the Aviary, the attack from the falcon and the onslaught from the lightning.

  “His eyes are open,” he heard Ebbin say.