by A. Sparrow
Ten pulses of cold fire came spinning like ninety mile per hour sliders into the beast and the already shattered tunnel, blunting its snout, ripping the roots to shreds. A vortex of fragments spun, picking up more and more pieces with each rotation. Roots liquefied, causing the creature to lose its grip and spin along with them, coils and all, as a massive void opened up beneath it.
The creature lunged, gripping what it could reach of the matrix with every claw and feeler it could muster. A hooked tentacle came whipping into Karla’s leg, knocking the claymore from her grip. She shrieked as she fell and was dragged off.
Sword held high, I leaped and hacked at the tentacle as it slid past me. Karla grabbed onto my leg, hauling me down. We tumbled in the grip of the severed tentacle to the edge of the vast crater that had opened up beneath the beast. Only a tangle of severed roots kept us from spilling over.
Appendages sallied forth from the beast and latched onto whatever root structure remained. The creature deformed itself, shifting its weight wherever it could find purchase. It looked like a giant amoeba hovering over a vast cauldron of severed roots and the ever-widening vortex.
Its dripping maw sniffed us down, drifting our way, sensing victory, opening wide in anticipation.
I twitched my sword. The beast’s pseudopods ripped loose. It plummeted, spinning out of sight through a maelstrom of shattered roots.
Chapter 50: The Upper Reaches
Karla and I clung to the edge of the vast, conical abyss. If not for a few stray loops and curls of frayed root, we both would have plummeted with the Reaper.
The vortex had sliced through many layers of tunnels. Like severed but bloodless arteries, their dark openings gaped, some ringed with seepages of light. At the thresholds of several broken tunnels, lesser Reapers nosed about confused and bellowed into the void.
Hands trembling, too scared to look down, I looked over to see if Karla was okay. She had no obvious injuries, but she had this goofy vacancy in her gaze, as if she were dizzy or plastered.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because … what you did … was amazing. How did you do that?”
“I don’t know,” I said, still stunned. “I just wanted it to happen, and … it happened.”
“Bern was right,” she said. “You are special.”
The partially severed roots unraveled and snapped under our weight. Karla cried out and started to slide. I grabbed her wrist and hauled her back. We crawled away from the edge, up to a flatter part of the mangled tunnel that felt more secure. Panting, I jabbed my sword into the tunnel floor and leaned back against the wall, struggling to gather my breath.
With the Reaper gone, the walls lost their stony texture and much of their mass. The roof sagged, its fibers gone limp as if all resolve had abandoned every root. Feeble lights flickered through the occasional strand. They were back to being ordinary roots again, if these roots could be called ordinary.
Karla grabbed my face and kissed me. Her eyes twinkled, and it wasn’t just from the tears. I had never seen her so giddy.
Bern’s staff poked through curtains of shredded root that had only minutes earlier had been a pile of immovable rubble. I got up and slashed at them with my sword, letting them fall into a heap. Karla recovered her claymore and joined me, wielding the heftier weapon with both hands.
“Hold on, Bern!” I said, as his staff nearly jabbed me in the groin. “We’ve got it from here.”
“We?” he said. “Oh thank God. Are you both okay?”
“We’re fine.”
“La!” Isobel scrambled through the cleft and leapt onto her sister. “Thanks God! I thought that smelly thing ate you.”
“No way,” said Karla. “I’m much too bitter. It would have spit me out. James is the one you should worry about.”
“Astounding!” said Bern, staring down the tunnel at the enormous pit. “Incredible.”
We pushed through to the other side, where Lille rushed over and gave us each a hug. Jeff looked on all sheepish and befuddled. The freckled lady crouched before some pieces of root arranged in a tic-tac-toe grid. She was trying and failing to create something out of them.
“What are you trying to make?” I said.
“I don’t know. Anything,” she said. “A poncho … a toga … something to cover my butt.”
“Picture something you know real well—its smell, its feel, the way it flows—and it will come.”
“Oh look at you, acting like a professor now,” said Karla. “Just make her something already. Unless … that is … you enjoy keeping her in the nude.”
“That’s not it at all. It’s just … if she’s gonna be here, she needs to learn.”
“Calm down,” Karla giggled. “I was only joking.”
“But what if we’re not Weavers … like you guys?” said Jeff.
“I don’t think that’s possible,” I said, laying my sword down. “I think everybody’s a Weaver … deep inside.” I collapsed against the tunnel wall, feeling completely drained.
Bern and Lille kept whispering to each other. They tossed glances, looking at me with a strange expression I could only describe as sheer awe bordering on worship. I wasn’t used to getting that from people, to say the least. It felt weird and I didn’t like it. Not one bit.
“Well,” said Lille. “After something this, I suppose we could all use some tea, don’t you think?”
***
She was a tea addict, that Lille. Either that, or an obsessive compulsive. Only that could explain her mastery of tea. Every pot she brewed was different and distinct, even if the cups she poured came out perfectly clear. Darjeeling, Keemum, Oolong, Lapsang Souchoung—she had every possible variety in her repertoire.
On top of that, she somehow conjured a remarkably close approximation of cinnamon scones. I had yet to figure out how to make anything remotely edible from a root, and here she was passing around a basket of these luscious pastries, flaky, steaming and moist.
Karla took advantage of our break time to fit the freckled lady in a cottony summer dress with a floral print, while Isobel braided her hair. It turned out she had a name—Claire—and she came from New Orleans.
Bern cleared his throat and banged his staff against the floor of the tunnel to get our attention.
“Lille and I were thinking … it’s time we all had a chat about our future.”
“What future?” said Claire.
Bern ignored her.
“We obviously would have an issue returning from whence we came, since James has conveniently put a rather large canyon between us and the other end of the tunnel. Of course, if we so wished we could manage to devise some manner of suspension bridge to get us across, but—”
“Get to the point Bern,” said Lille, jabbing her elbow into his side.
“The point is … we have no desire to go back. There’s nothing left for us in the ‘Burg but consternation and persecution. Anything we created at our little cottage and our cabin can be recreated elsewhere. So, in short, we plan to continue onward. Thanks to James, it’s guaranteed to be free of Reapers … at least, until the tunnels repair themselves … which, considering the scale of the damage, will take quite some time. But the question is … do any of you care to join us?”
“Well, I sure ain’t going back,” said Jeff. “Not if those … things … are down there.”
“I don’t care one way or another,” said Claire. “But I guess I wouldn’t mind tagging along with you all, wherever you guys decide to go.”
“I’m torn,” said Karla. “We have our friends left behind. Astrid. Xiao Ke. And I miss my little dome.”
“And Nonno is down there,” said Isobel. “Remember?”
“Your little dome?” I said. “Your little dome is trashed.”
“Trashed?”
“One side’s bashed in. The roof’s collapsed. Your stuff’s strewn all over and turning back into roots.”
Karla sighed.
“So … uh … where
would we go?” said Jeff.
“Upward and outward,” said Bern. “I don’t know exactly where that will lead us or what we will find, but I’m hoping it leads us closer to a certain enlightened soul we once met in Luther’s square. Some of you may remember Victoria?”
“Do you have any reason to believe she’s up here?” I said.
“No,” said Bern. “Other than she and her people don’t seem to be anywhere else we’ve bloody looked. And believe me, Lille and I have looked far and wide for that particular community of free souls, even before Victoria decided to pay us all a visit.”
“Free souls?” said Jeff.
“Unbound to life,” said Bern. “Or at least life as we know it … on the other side.”
“Ooh! I like the sound of that,” said Claire.
“You mean, dead?” said Isobel, scrunching her face.
“Listen up you all,” said Lille. “We can’t be certain we’ll find what we’re looking for up there. But there’s a sweet breeze coming from the passages ahead of us. To me, that’s reward enough. It certainly promises to make our explorations more pleasant than all the stink and stagnation we find down below.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Karla. “I think I will join you.”
“Me too,” I said cupping my hand over Karla’s.
“And me,” said Isobel, adding her hand to our stack.
***
And so, it was unanimous. All seven of us agreed to go onward and upward with Bern and Lille. Of course I was going to end up going wherever Karla went, even though she had made up her mind without first checking with me. But maybe she just knew.
I didn’t have the luxury of worrying too much about our long-term prospects. My mind kept dwelling on my little problem back at Inverness Station. Depending on how things went there, I might not be sticking around long enough to reach any community of free souls.
My mind couldn’t stop dwelling on the prospect of an unnatural and involuntary death. The thought of leaving this existence that way made my heart quail, not because things were so wonderful in Root, but it was the only place that Karla agreed to be with me. I was still convinced we could carve a decent life on the other side, but so far I had totally failed to convince her.
She must have noticed the worry in my eyes. Either that, or she was totally clairvoyant.
“I was thinking about your issue,” she said, as we slogged behind Bern. “Don’t worry. I’ve spoken to Isobel. We have a plan.”
Isobel nodded and grinned.
“What kind of plan?”
“Don’t worry. We’ll take care of things. I’ll make some arrangements. Just stay put. Don’t get on a train and don’t leave the station. We need to be able to find you.”
“What if the bounty hunters have a different plan?”
Her brow furrowed. “Stall. Just try and stay in the station. We will try to get there as soon as we can. The problem is, I don’t know which of us is going to fade first.”
“Well, it’s not gonna be me,” I said. “I’m in no hurry whatsoever to get back.”
“You act as though you have a choice,” said Karla.
“Personally, I can’t wait to go home,” said Isobel. “I’m going to laugh in Papa’s face. It turns out, the joke is on him. There is a place to hide where he can’t reach.”
“Don’t you dare disrespect Papa,” said Karla. “He will bash your head in.”
“I don’t care anymore.” She skipped ahead to catch up with Lille and Bern who was setting a blistering pace for a man with a lame left leg.
***
The higher we climbed, the narrower the tunnel became, and the more tightly it wound. It now had the dimensions of a culvert I used to play in back in Ohio. I could touch either wall without stretching and had to crouch slightly to avoid bumping my head.
A faint blue glow, barely discernible as light, revealed each curve. Random spots flashed like fireflies from time to time without pattern and without repeating. Shadows lay thicker in side tunnels. Any creature that might be lurking could watch us pass, itself unobserved.
Bern no longer walked at the head of our little expedition. The adrenalin that had driven him had waned and he now lagged far behind with Lille and Claire. Jeff, of all people, had become our trailblazer, calling back to us at every junction to make sure that we followed.
Wind whistled through the passage, scented with a mix of something resinous and something else that smelled like sun-cured hay—a refreshing change from the rotten egg emanations of the Reapers.
“I wonder if this was such a smart idea,” said Karla. “This place is so sterile. We have not seen a single soul.”
“That’s good, isn’t it? No pods means no Reapers.”
“I suppose,” she said.
“I sort of like it here,” said Isobel. “If only it wasn’t so dark.”
As we turned the next bend, there came a gushing, dripping sound.
“Hey guys!” said Jeff. “It gets wide here. And … there’s like a waterfall or something.”
We climbed over a hump and down into a wide, circular bowl filled ankle-deep in cool, clear water. A pair of trickles, faintly illuminated by some external source, dribbled down from a large, round hole in the ceiling.
“It’s a sinkhole,” I said, splashing out to the center. Jeff was already there, staring up at a thousand pinpoints of light.
Karla came up beside us. “Oh my God! Are those—?”
“Stars,” said Jeff.
“But are they?” I said. “Is that even possible? I thought everything here was tunnels and roots.”
“What else could they be?” said Karla, entranced, the star light glinting off her forehead.
Isobel seemed somewhat less impressed, but she hadn’t been in Root long enough to know how dreary and claustrophobic it could get.
Bern and Lille caught up, walking with the increasingly chatty Claire, who was telling them about her sordid life as a waitress in a strip club. Seven heads gawked at the sky through that hole.
“Looks like this is the end of the road,” said Bern.
“Not so fast,” said Lille. “What’s up there, I wonder?”
“You mean … we should abandon the tunnels?”
“Exactly.”
***
Bern wove us a thickly knotted rope with a grapple at one end. Jeff and I took turns tossing it up through the hole, until it caught securely on the overhanging rim.
Bern gave it a firm tug to set the hooks. He brushed his hands off and looked at us. “Alright then? Who’s first?”
“Tsk, tsk,” said Lille. “You don’t expect me to climb that swingy thing. I’ll drop and shatter my tea set.”
Under Lille’s guidance, Bern wove a second, identical rope and grapple. We set it alongside the first and created rungs between the knots, strengthening and stiffening the resulting structure until we had ourselves a sturdy ladder.
“Now, that’s more like it,” said Lille.
“I’ll go first,” I said. “If that’s okay.”
“Be my guest, lad,” said Bern. “Better you than me.”
There was enough of a glow for me to see the smiles all around as I sank my fingers into the soft rungs. A wind swirled down and buffeted me as I rose above the basin. As my head poked above the rim I was greeted by a sky without limit, carpeted with millions of stars.
“Oh my God!”
“What do you see? What do you see?” said Karla, anxiously.
“No tunnels, that’s for sure. Just open sky. There’s another world up here … a whole ‘nother world.”
Isobel came up behind me, quick as a monkey, with Karla close behind. The others joined us, one by one, with Bern bringing up the rear. We milled about, heads tilted back, gawking and exclaiming in disbelief.
“Look, there are mountains!” said Isobel.
Indeed, the horizon was rumpled with peaks and veiled with shreds of something gauzy that had to be clouds. A faint patch of glow highlighted one str
etch of hilltops, as if there were a distant city or a fire just beyond.
“Is this Heaven?” said Claire.
“Looks like … Arizona,” said Jeff.
“Are you alright Bern?” said Lille. “Your breathing’s gone kind of ragged.”
“I’m just … speechless. This is beyond my dreams.”
“That’s not saying much, coming from you.”
“No, but … I was just hoping for a smaller tunnel … a quieter patch of roots.”
“Do you suppose there are monsters here?” said Isobel.
Karla sighed. “Probably. Aren’t there always?”
I put my arm around Karla and she snuggled up against me. There was a bit of a nip in the air. It felt like that big sky was going to swallow us up. Isobel came over and took Karla’s hand.
“La? How come I can’t feel my fingers?”
“What? Oh Izzie! You’re fading!”
“You too!”
Panic shot through me. There was a gap where Karla’s shoulder had been, and holes in her face, where the star light shone through.
“Crap! We just got here.”
Even in the dimness I could see the calm confidence in Karla’s eyes. “No worries, my love. We’ll be back.”
She leaned in to kiss me, but was gone before her lips engaged, brushing my cheek with a touch so light it could have been the eyelash of a butterfly, if butterflies only had eyelashes.
I staggered into the space she had just occupied. Only Bern’s quick and firm hand kept me from tumbling over the rim of the overhang.
I dropped to my knees, anchorless and adrift in the universe like a boat ripped from its moorings.
***
Claire was in mid-sentence, telling us about the evil things drunken men do in Baton Rouge when she too, blinked out. Jeff faded soon thereafter, without as much as a peep.
“Terrible, isn’t it?” said Lille. “How this nasty place operates. Just when things are getting good, it boots you out.”
“But you guys never seem to leave,” I said. “What’s your secret?”