“You have a nasty head on your shoulders. Focus. Or I’ll have Chippie throw some brown boulders.”
“Lay off the rhymes.”
“Why? Are you one of the beholders? Nah. Better watch your tongue amongst our kind, or you’ll find yourself many scolders.”
What in Susy’s name…?
He steps forward and grips the roots at eye level. Not a word. He just stares while gripping the bars. I remain silent, staring back. Part of me fears what he’s capable of. Those without a clear mind don’t see the world as the rest of us do. He could just as well live in the darkness, believing it to be bright as the shining sun. But he’s so old, and he’s a Sprhowt. Not a Dihkai. What harm could come from him?
The bars rip from the ground, revealing the tips of the roots for the first time. Small craters are left behind where the dirt collapses in their place. As they rise, one slips around my ankle and hoists me into the air leaving me inverted. I nearly choke on the apple, but thankfully being upside down helps the half-chewed chunk slip from my throat. I spit it at the old man.
“Argh! Unnecessary,” the old man grumbles. “It was only a prank. A foul man, you are. I ought to leave you up there.”
“Fine. Leave me here.”
He shakes his head at me and taps his booted foot. The root releases its grip and drops me to the forest floor.
“We have a long way to go, I see. First lesson: We are not only capable of enhancing growth, but we can retract it as well. This is not knowledge the Taoiseach has kept from you, however. You simply aren’t educated. The first of…” He starts counting his fingers and throws his hands in the air when he runs out. “…many lessons.”
I rise to my feet and flatten my attire. He stands taller than I initially realized. Staring down on me, a sense of intimidation jabs at me. Non-threatening. Similar to the intimidation you get from looking your grandfather in the eye. His knowledge of the talents is impressive. And how did he do that thing with a tap of his foot? The Academy could have taught me so much had I stayed with my father. “No, I’m not. Educated, I mean.” It’s painful to admit.
That adverse squirrel drops to the ground and I pounce without hesitation. A large stick immediately follows and cracks down on my knuckles.
“Ouch!” The squirrel flutters toward the old man, races up his leg, and perches on his shoulder with a rampant chirp. “Sorry. Instincts.”
“Hardly.” He glares at me.
I extend a hand for a formal greeting. “My name is Goose. Goose Greyson, of House Greyson.”
He shakes my hand in return—a firm grip for his feeble-looking hands. “Nice to meet you, Goose Greyson of House Greyson. Let’s eat, shall we. You’re going to require a lot of training if you cannot escape the confines of a wooden cell. I’ll show you the crossing later in the evening.”
“Training? I’d rather just be on my way. My undertaking is somewhat urgent. As I mentioned, my friend is in captivity, and the only escape is through the Taoiseach. I must press on.”
“Very well, then. But remember, only the worthy shall pass. Here’s a tip—Use your Instincts. Master your listening skills. Know your talent is limitless. And today will be the day.”
“Noted. Who decides who is worthy?” I ask, irritated by his presumptions.
“You do, of course.”
“Right. Obviously. What do they call you?”
“Call me what you will. It makes no difference. I will respond. However, if it is talking behind my back you wish to do, then please call me Graytu, for that is what others refer to me as. Chief of the village, I am. Or something like that.”
“Crazy old coot,” I mutter under my breath.
“Yes, that is a common one too,” he responds and follows with a piercing whistle.
I hear a sudden rush. Of what, I’m not sure. Maybe the wind rustling the trees, but it sounds heavier than that. I look to the treetops, and the bark appears to be moving. As I focus, I realize it’s more squirrels on the move. They’re fleeing the treetops, quickly scurrying down the trunks of several trees all around us, and taking seat in front of… The Animal King.
“Let’s head out, Guardians!”
Are these…the other villagers he speaks of? I hope this isn’t the village he speaks of. Gunther warned me of this coot. What was it he said? Patience. Have patience with the animal king. What am I getting into?
“Hold on. Where are the tiger and the stallion?” His eccentricity nearly had me forgetting I didn’t travel here alone.
“Ah, yes. The tiger we butchered late last evening and is likely being prepared for brunch as we speak. The stallion—”
“What? You did what to my tiger?” I stamp toward him and grab his bicep, which feels too solid for as baggy as it looks. He easily counters my aggressive approach with a flip of his staff, knocking my knuckles and causing me to release and wince in pain.
“Wonderful! You’ve begun listening. But I thought you said it wasn’t your tiger?” Graytu marches forward without waiting for a response. “Our people would never slaughter such a magnificent beast, not for the sake of a meal. The forest already provides us with the nutrition we need.” He reaches under his kilt once again and pulls out a pear this time. “A pear solo and you’ll go rolo; a pear in pairs ignites your inner flares.”
“What?”
“I don’t have another to share. My apologies. This second one is rather important to me, for I’d rather not go rolo.” He reveals a second pear from underneath his kilt.
Where is he hiding this fruit? And how could he possibly know that expression? Could it be he knows my grandmother? Maybe my father too? Maybe he has word of him. I suppose it may have been a common idiom with his generation. Just an expression to get children to eat a meal.
“Helios,” I reply, eager to get off the topic of the awkward under-kilt pears.
“Helios? The regal beast! Yes, of course. Helios is in good care, as is the stallion. You will see them again when you fail at the Redcliffe Crossing.”
“Fail. I don’t fail. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“You’re absolutely correct. You don’t fail. You only grow. And you’re welcome,” he replies with a salty grin.
Graytu escorts me directly to a ravine with an elder fig tree rooted along its edge. I hoped we would pass through his village to reassure me these rodents aren’t his villagers, but I didn’t see a single dwelling or any sign of civilization. The Mad Animal King, more like it.
The ravine looks to be leagues deep. With the rough cliff face bulging in and out, I cannot see the bottom, but I know it’s there. And the wall on the opposite side climbs leagues above us. The top is also out of sight, lost in a haze of clouds. Why would he have brought me here? It’s a dead end.
“This is the Redcliffe Crossing? I’d be a fool to believe that. There’s no crossing.”
“Only the worthy, Goose of House Greyson. Good luck.”
He gives me a soft pat on the shoulder and joyfully skips back the way we came. How could his ancient knees possibly handle that? His rodent bounces along behind him, and its kin disappear into the treetops.
“Wait!” I call out before he gets too far down the dirt path. “Wait a moment. Are you not going to show me how to cross? Am I to leap? This ravine is twenty paces across with a solid rock wall on the other side. What am I to do? I don’t have time for this tigershit!”
Graytu continues down the path without looking back.
The Redcliffe is well known because of its size, but I never really understood its magnitude until now. I look up. Somewhere up there, hidden beyond the cloud cover, is the Plateau. And Greybark. My eyes repel down the wall. The dark-grey granite that it’s mostly comprised of is streaked with blue and white veins and only a hint of reddish tones here and there. It makes me wonder why it’s called the Redcliffe.
I stand on the edge of the ravine next to the large fig tree. It’s a blessing I didn’t bring Stone along with me. His knees would have buckled at the sight,
and he’d have fallen straight to the bottom by now. Assuming he didn’t snag himself on the numerous fig roots jetting out from the cliffside. There’s no chance he or I could leap across this thing. It’d be a leap to certain death if attempted. A leap of suicide.
“Alright then.” I encourage myself. “Seems challenging, but no challenge is too much for Goose Greyson… The Worthy.”
My goal—to get across this ravine and continue to Greybark. I scan my surroundings to discover the facts. What could possibly get me to the top of an enormous wall bordered by a moat? Which, no doubt, is infested with some type of man-eating reptile if my adventure follows the storybooks. The trees aren’t tall enough; no vines to swing across; no natural bridges or ladders of any kind; nothing worth value. Only an eagle owl of ancient could fly me to the top. Why did Gunther send me in this direction if Greybark sits on the Plateau? I’d have been better off following the Forest Road north—the logical way to the top.
The lack of resources is detrimental to my attitude. But my father wouldn’t allow such weakness. He would stand tall with resolve. And so will I.
So…what do I have of value? I have my talent. Growth must be key to get to the other side, but how? I can’t manipulate the rocks on the cliff face. They’re cold and lifeless and belong to Azure. I do, however, have the trees. Goose the Worthy is on his way to Greybark.
The lone fig tree nearest to me looks ancient but durable. It’s as tall as the tallest sentinels, but more massive with branches overhanging the ravine. This one will be perfect.
I climb to the lowest level of branches. The longer branches will cut the growth distance in half, but they’re also the thickest, which will surely fatigue me at double the rate. All the branches farther up the trunk decrease in both length and strength dramatically, so I decide to work with the branch I’m already straddling.
A subtle voice echoes through the branches as I scoot outward. Not the high pitch voice of Graytu. “Who’s there?” I demand. No response. I wait a moment in silence. Nothing. I disregard my speculation and scoot further out to sit directly above the ravine. Looking up then down, I confirm what I’m up against. It’s nothing beyond my capabilities, I encourage myself. But the drop is intimidating. It’d leave me hanging onto my life by a thread at best, which the fish would nibble through anyways.
I place my hands firmly around the branch between my legs and close my eyes to focus on the accretion. But I’m quickly interrupted by the aggravating howling of monkeys and get whacked in the head by something hard.
“What the…” My concentration breaks before it even begins, and I look up to identify the assaulter. A siamang is perched several branches up with its teeth bared as it shares mocking grunts. “Did you do that? Did the Animal King put you up to this?” The black ape continues to holler and bounce like a toddler after sucking on sugar cane.
“What am I doing?” I gabble. “I’m yelling at a monkey.”
I reach for a nearby bushel of figs and return the favor. “Get out of here. I have no time for play.” The fig misses the ape but threatens enough to force its retreat.
I go back to my business, trying to diminish the newly acquired pain in the back of my skull, and start concentrating once again on the branch between my legs. The fibers are thick and tough and won’t be easy to manipulate. If I attempt to accrete the branch near its end where it thins out, it’ll be easier, but it won’t be enough to hold my mass, I don’t think. Not worth the risk. I focus my energy directly below where my hands are planted.
The layer of bark beneath my palms is thin. I force my mind deeper. The tree is ancient, just as its appearance portrays. The rigidity of the layers is apparent as I go deeper and deeper—each a barricade to the center where its strength is rooted. I access the core of the branch and struggle with the power embedded there.
The world around me is lost. All I know are the strength of my fibers, the energy of the blazing sun overhead, and the subtle flow of water pumping through my veins. I accelerate the nutrients and the exhilaration of the sustenance feeding my core and my limbs, and my thin coating of armor is jovial. It’s addictive. I am strong and healthy, and I continue to force my growth at a steady pace.
I continue until I notice a faint warmth. An energy other than the sun, a foreign presence separate of my fibers, outside my coat of armor.
I let go of the branch, breaking my essence free from the arbor. It takes a moment to lift my heavy eyelids. The branch has extended over the ravine another two paces or so. A sigh puffs from my lips.
An immense amount of heat brushes across the back of my neck, forming goose prickles. I reach to wipe it away and feel the same humid sensation on the back of my hand. Annoying apes. Hesitant to turn for fear of getting whacked again, I hastily lean to the side, dropping below the branch and landing on the ground—nearly too close to the edge. But I stick the landing.
As suspected, it’s the black ape back for more. Without warning, the simian pummels me with figs. I cower my head below my arms and step forward under the cover of the foliage. The figs are far from lethal but pack a good sting. I would really like this infuriating animal to stop pestering me.
I reach for a low-hanging branch and snatch several unripe figs of my own, enlarging them to the size of my fist one by one as I hurl them at the ape. The simian successfully bats them away, retreats toward the trunk, and begins howling loudly and rapidly. A monkey-fit, perhaps. No. A call for help. Several more black figures drop into the scene as one ape turns into a half dozen.
Susy’s shits! How do I get myself into these predicaments? A food fight with a gang of apes. Is this even the Redcliffe Crossing? Graytu knew this was going to happen. Gunther warned me of this fool, yet I stepped right into his tigershit anyways. Dammit.
I reach for the nearest bushel and chuck more fist-sized figs in their direction. One after the other, the apes are pelted with almost every shot. But it’s one arm against a half dozen. A fig explodes right between my eyes, reigniting the migraine I awoke with this morning. Curse this place!
As my ammunition dwindles to the last few, our fig frenzy is interrupted by a massive surprise.
Another ape drops from somewhere high in the tree down to the branch overhead and swings to plant its feet on the ground right in front of me. Its magnitude would make the largest man in all of Azure wet himself. Not me, though.
An alpha male in its true form. The black ape is the size of a Cryptid, maybe larger with its simian physique. Death in a black fury cloak. At least this one will make it quick and pulverize me with its brute strength as opposed to slicing me into sandwich meat like the Cryptids would do.
My fingers unfurl and let the remaining figs fall. A fruitlet won’t threaten this beast. It’s time to flee. Unfortunately, I’m stuck between a colossal ape and a leap of suicide.
I turn and leap.
Reaching for the lowest plumage of the branch, I squeeze it and accrete layers to the small twig as it lowers me below the cliff’s edge. But I’m not low enough. The ape comes at me with a bulbous hairy arm. I let go. As I fall, I manage to lock my arms around the roots protruding from the cliff face. Out of arm’s reach of the beast, I’m safe for now. But how long can I hold on? Will the ape lose interest? How am I going to get out of this one? Curse this place!
“Coloss! No,” an aloof voice calls.
The roots tremble with vibrations and shrink beneath my grip. I don’t know what’s causing it, but I try to offset it by enhancing their growth. Whoever’s retracting them is outperforming me. But who would be doing this to me? Graytu? The roots slip from my grip and slither back into the cliff face like a burrowing snake. There’s nothing more for me to hold onto. I fall.
“Ugh.” Am I alive? I wiggle my fingers. I wiggle my toes. I tighten my calves then my buttocks. All my body parts seem to be here. A hatchet splits my head in two. I reach for the origin of the pain and carelessly massage it.
I peer between my eyelashes, unwilling to face the blinding lig
ht. The heat of the sun radiates over my skin. How long have I been out? What happened to me? Then, the bright light fades. Darkness accompanied by a chilled breeze surrounds me. “Shit. I’m headed to one of Susy’s four hells,” I mutter under my breath.
“Oh no! We are?” shouts a familiar voice.
My eyes snap open to see what I thought was darkness was merely the silhouette of Graytu. He stands over me with his quirky headdress and an even quirkier smile. And his pesky rodent perched restlessly on his shoulder too.
“That is very unlikely,” he continues. “Possible, but unlikely because I am alive. That is what I perceive, anyhow. What do you perceive?”
“What?”
“I thought you said you were worthy?” he asks. “You didn’t listen, did you?”
“Why is it I continue to wake up from an unconscious state with you above me? And with a splitting headache!”
“Oh! Oh! I have an answer for that!”
Graytu’s delight in answering my question is further proof of his queerness. Not that he needs further proof with a pet squirrel perched on his shoulder.
“The first state of unconsciousness was because I knocked you out.” He pulls out a fukiya along with a miniature projectile from a hidden pouch on his leather belt strap. It looks more like a sharp carrot than a dart. He waves it about as he continues explaining. “A tiger tranquilizer tends to have some nasty side effects, you know. I wouldn’t recommend it. I was intending to hit the tiger first, but… Whoops. No permanent damage done, right? Today’s headache, however, is mostly your own doing. Mostly.”
He then looks at his dart more carefully, lifts it to his mouth and crunches down on it with a loud snap. What could possibly drive a man to be so odd? Even more puzzling, why would a man keep carrots in his belt strap?
“What happened?” I continue, attempting to ignore his queerness. “All I remember is a murderous gorilla hollering at me, and then I was plummeting down to feed the fish.”
“Gorilla? No way! But…do you think…quite possibly…a chinchilla? Or…did it have a mammilla, or something similar in the form of a papilla?”
Season of Sacrifice (Blood of Azure Book 1) Page 23