The two of us board an arborcar and are on our way. The grove, to my surprise, is a quick shot across the village, and we arrive in moments.
“Alright, here we are.” Zoie states with much ambiguity toward irritation.
We step out of the arborcar onto a wooden platform that planes just below the underside of the canopy. I imagined there would be a variety of fruit trees due to the morning deliveries I’ve been receiving, but as I look upon the grove, the sight is unforgettable. Rows upon rows of trunks as far as I can see create unnaturally clean contours. Every tree is in line with the one before and after it, and all the branches grow at the same height, regardless if it’s an apple, cherry, or sugar plum tree. It’s a never-ending ceiling of colorful and bountiful foliage. And the aroma leaves me craving something sweet. I can’t pick out any one smell. But the collage of perfumes wafting through the air is pleasurable to the senses, to be sure.
Like all other areas of the village, organic bridges are formed throughout the grove, lining each corridor. And they are at the perfect height for any villager, young or old, to easily access the bounty. As I stroll down one of the corridors, it’s like looking at a forest of rainbows. The discipline necessary for a Sprhowt to accomplish this is nothing short of impressive.
“You’d best grab a basket to gather what you need.”
I stare at her blankly. I don’t see any baskets lying around anywhere.
“Right there.” She points up and rolls her eyes. Several large watermelons hang from the branches overhead.
“Wha…what is that?” I reply, dumbfounded.
“No, it’s not a watermelon tree.” She looks down and shakes her head, pressing a palm to her forehead. “That is ridiculous. Watermelons grow on a vine down by the Moonblood bay. That’s what my mother would say. The rind is the basket. We hang them from the branches overhead when not in use.”
I pull a large one from the tree, and sure enough, the inside is hollowed out with a hemp rope handle. It’s a genuine fruit basket.
“I don’t really know which fruits to gather,” I declare. “Do you have any suggestions for an ape? What is Coloss’ favorite?”
“An ape has a brain the size of a nut. They’ll eat whatever’s put in front of them. I recommend a fresh kill. Nobody can pass up a juicy, red sirloin.”
“Don’t be foolish,” I lash back. “These are apes, not Cryptids.”
“Whatever you say. I don’t know anything about the mighty Coloss and his kin,” she replies.
I browse my choices while walking down each elevated aisle, occasionally checking my balance by gliding a hand across a tree trunk or whatever is in arm’s reach. Climbing a tree is within my comfort zone; walking on them will take some time to master. Especially when they’re thin and overgrown with moss.
One of the trees moves ahead of me. Its trunk rises into the air with a root ball to follow. It resembles a giant wooden hand with long, gangly fingers. As it silently elevates from below the timber deck, it outstretches its enormous arborous fingers. I leap back, and the moss-covered platform gets the best of me.
“Goose!” Zoie shrieks as I plummet. In a mere click, the arborous hand wraps around me, preventing me from falling to a very painful evening. I cannot see where the arm originates, but it appears to be an extension of a tree. Not a tree in itself, but a branch. It places me back onto the deck and releases me.
Zoie runs toward me in a panic. “Goose, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” As she approaches, she wraps her arms around me and squeezes.
“You didn’t mean to what?” I glare with suspicion. “What was that?”
“A reaper. They gather the fruit. I was… It was my fault,” she admits. “I didn’t mean to scare your legs out from under you, Sheela,” she says defensively and punches me in the chest.
She has an impressive jab for a petite girl.
“A fruit picker? You could have warned me. I thought maybe the trees were coming to life. I thought it was after me.”
“You don’t know what a reaper is?” She patronizes me.
“No.” I defend myself. “I was raised in the capital. We didn’t pick fruit in the city. We traded a copper rib to get a basket of fruit.”
“Well, now you do. Stop crying, I was only trying to help speed things up. It’s getting late and you’re cutting into precious hunting time.”
“Leave the wooden appendage out of this and just give me a hand, then.”
I fill my basket with green apples, golden pears, red plums, star fruit, papayas, and a variety of fruitlets. I imagine Coloss and his kin have been eating figs their entire lives, so anything different ought to be welcomed. I made sure to overfill the basket and pack in as much as I could into a second basket as well so all the simians will be able to feast.
To get back to the village, we have to transfer the arborcar over to the return line.
“Grab the cable over there and thread the charlie over here, will ya?” Zoie requests to a naïve ear. I stare at her with a blank expression.
“The cable. Run it through the charlie over here,” Zoie requests again.
Once she realizes I’m useless, she marches over to where I’m standing, grabs the excess line hanging from the arborcar, threads it through the wooden mechanism sitting atop the return line, and pulls it taught.
“Are you really going to let a young girl do all the work? Be of some use and pull on that cable over there.” She points to another line, or cable as she describes it, and gestures for me to hurry.
I pull hard on the line, and with the help of the so-called charlie the line that remains attached to the arborcar swings into place onto the return line.
“What a useful contraption,” I acknowledge.
“Yeah. Whatever. Get on.”
I step aboard the arborcar with my fruit basket in hand. Zoie watches me from the platform and doesn’t attempt to step aboard herself.
“Are you not coming back?”
“No thanks. I have no business playing with the apes right now. My time is valuable, so I’m going to use it wisely. I’ll stick around here to see if I can bring home dinner.”
“You’re hunting in the grove?”
“Yeah. These trees leave delightful desserts that animals of all kinds come to revel in. It’s a hunter’s dream.”
“It’s not much of a hunt if you’re baiting the prey. There’s no more challenge in it than butchering a hog in its sty.”
“I’ve butchered a hog or two while shacking out here on some late hunts. Now those were some lip-smacking meals. And I don’t bait the prey, Grouse. I just go where the meat is. And the meat just so happens to enjoy the savory delicacies of the grove.”
“Suit yourself.”
When I return to the Redcliffe Crossing, Coloss and company remain frolicking about their revered fig tree.
I stay put and observe, waiting for the right moment to approach. I’ve witnessed somewhat of a daily routine after observing them for the past several days. The older siamangs tend to be lazy throughout the day with the occasional hooting. The younger ones, however, parade up and down the trunk in and out of the branches and wrestle on the forest floor in the late morning. Soon after, one of the elderly females rallies the young ones, and that’s when the grooming begins. They’re currently picking at each other, so that means they’ll be divulging in the nourishments of the fig tree any moment. Today, when they do so, I’ll surprise them with an array of flavors to please their taste buds in a way they’ve never experienced. That ought to earn me Coloss’s trust.
I mosey down to the base of the tree, allowing them time to finish bathing each other. Not one of them acknowledges my presence. Coloss must know I’m trespassing on his territory; though, so I clear my throat to force his acknowledgement. Still nothing. I set the baskets down and place a hand on the lowest branch. No raging apes yet. I casually swing my leg over to straddle the limb.
My tree… I hear a voice—or feel the words. I’m not sure. Is he a speaking ape?
As anticipated, a loud howling rumbles the entire tree. And even with the anticipation, the startle nearly tosses me back to the forest floor. Whether the words are real or imagined, I clearly understand. I obey Coloss’s request and drop from the tree, fearful of what might happen if I don’t. Another howl echoes through the ravine, and Coloss crashes to the forest floor not two paces away, causing me to stumble backward and trip over the delicacies of the fruit basket. He pounds his chest and howls again, but I pay no attention as I scramble to gather all the fruit I displaced.
Once the contents of the fruit basket is back in place, I stand up to present it to him, but he no longer towers over me. My eyes dart in all directions and find him perched back upon his throne in the fig tree.
I stomp my foot. “What do I have to do to gain your trust!” I shout, not expecting an answer. But mutterings of syllables echo through my thoughts. Not my own thoughts, but something foreign.
I contemplate whether I should chase after him up the tree but quickly decide against it. I know how that will play out. Instead, I attempt to imitate the beast by howling as apishly as I can muster. It works. I suspect it isn’t because my howling is free of imperfection, but rather the opposite.
Coloss repels down the tree, pausing on each branch to beat his chest and either grunt or howl, until he finds the forest floor yet again. His skull-crushing fists raise high above his head with a grueling facial expression and menacing wails bellowing from his lungs. However, my instincts tell me I am out of harm’s way. I stand my ground.
I display the fruit basket and tenaciously make eye contact with his commanding evergreen eyes. The beast holds still without conceding the fruit. I, too, hold my bearing. So long that my shoulder burns with pain and feels as though it will fall off from the weight of the basket. Eventually, I flinch the slightest, and Coloss bellows a massive roar, rips the basket from my hand, tossing it high above, and shoves me to the ground before leaping back into the tree.
Several curses explode from my tongue. “I don’t have time for this,” I mutter to myself while climbing back to my feet. My temper flares. I presume this tree will further my journey, but Coloss is expendable.
Hopelessly coveting the advice Zoie gave me about always carrying my bow with me, I instead reach above my head and snap a small branch from his tree.
As expected, the siamang crashes through the branches to get to me. I accrete the small branch into a much larger and robust weapon emulating a crowbill. I stretch the organic spike straight into the air in anticipation of the attack. To my surprise, the ape carelessly leaps straight down upon me, and the crowbill pierces his bicep. It was a rash decision. And not a good one. Coloss goes into a frenzy.
My only weapon is torn from my hands and tossed into the ravine as the frantic ape waves his arms ferociously and pounds on his chest. His teeth glare and they look rather carnivorous. I have not a chance against this beast. I run without a destination in mind. I run and run, afraid to look back. Thundering footsteps crash behind me. My heart beats wildly, ready to burst within my chest, but the terrifying sound helps me focus on sprinting faster, one foot in front of the other.
I near the village and see several organic ladders hanging from the treetops in the distance. Only a few hundred paces to safety. I hope. One hundred paces. Fifty paces. The thundering footsteps sound as though they’re getting distant. I leap into the air at full sprint and latch onto a ladder, swinging violently as I struggle to climb. Nearly there. Then a paralyzing blow hits me in the back, sending me spiraling away from safety.
I manage to retain my grip on the ladder with one hand. However, two big, black, hairy arms are squeezing the air from my lungs.
Suddenly, another blow sends us careening from the ladder. Coloss loosens his grip just enough to allow me to distance myself so I am not crushed under his weight when we hit the ground.
I’m allowed a moment of recovery before I scramble to my feet and realize why I haven’t been torn to pieces yet. A single mass of orange and black fur rolls about on the forest floor. Helios and Coloss, two equally sized beasts, both with teeth that can divide a man in two. But Helios will not win this one. His strength is no match for the Redcliffe Guardian.
I gave Stone my word Helios would be safe by my side. And Jay would never forgive me if anything happened to him. I must do something to stop this, but what? My father would know what to do. Or Stone, or Jay, or anybody.
Without an inkling of a plan, I grab the first lousy stick at foot and rush to the tangling mass of orange and black fur. When the opportunity presents itself, I leap onto Coloss’ back, ignoring the fact I could be crushed. I wrap the stick around its neck and pull tight.
The two beasts continue ripping into each other, neither aware that I’ve skirted myself into the struggle. My leg snaps, possibly a few ribs, when I descend underneath them. As soon as I’m free from their weight, I roll away to a safe distance. There, I lie on the ground in agony watching Helios slowly get torn apart by the giant simian. Helios is noticeably getting slower and weaker. Soon he will be lying on the ground next to me. Then, I notice a fatigue in Coloss. But it appears more than just fatigue. His movements are unnaturally slow as if he were doused in molasses.
A feathered missile darts past the two of them. A near miss, almost piercing Helios in the neck. There isn’t anyone in sight.
Coloss slumps to the ground within moments. Helios soon after. I frantically look around. I would flee, but every movement is excruciatingly painful.
“I don’t miss,” a confident young voice says from behind me.
I roll onto my back, not without scowling, to see Zoie looking upon me with disappointment strewn across her face. Behind her stands Graytu, Fairview, and several of the Redcliffe Warriors, all with the same look of disappointment. I gander toward the ape lying on the ground, then back to Fairview. She remains silent. I look to Graytu. He remains silent for the first time since he boisterously introduced himself.
“What?” I ask ignorantly.
“I told you he wasn’t worthy.” One of the warriors tattles to Graytu. “He’s too unruly. He’ll never amount to his potential.”
That’s not the first time I’ve heard that comment. It was common during my childhood. That would have been acceptable, but to hear it from this man. It is something I cannot stomach. I have never felt more embarrassed. I attacked one of their own. I’m not worthy. I’m a failure. Sorry, father.
This world is proof knowledge is not for everyone. It is only for those who won’t abuse it. The majority need to remain in the shadows, as only a few can withstand to be enlightened. Yet, there are those who find strength in the shadows. It is they who I will need to be wary of.
28 Elder
Six seasons earlier…
“S
uits and underwear? No thanks. I’d rather go frolic with the pigs. Are there any sties in the area? Any bacon breeders in the city?” I ask. All of them laugh at me. I shrug my shoulders. “What? Hog wrestling is common in Farrow. We have sty tournaments all the time. I’m not all that great at it, though. The more stoutly built tend to take the ranks.”
A simple pleasure. Our entertainment in Farrow doesn’t involve dressing up in uncomfortable clothes and dining with glassware.
“Are you sure you don’t want to join us, dear?” Stone’s mother, Shae, asks with her soft and caring voice. “We made reservations for five at the banquet, knowing you were joining us on this tour to the capital. And, despite your disinterest, formal wear is a must.”
“Yes, I’m sure. But thank you, Lady McLarin. You know where I’m from and who my typical company is. Suits don’t suit me. Even underwear is a luxury in Farrow. I already have two pair and don’t need any more than that. We have a wash day every fortnight, so two is just enough.”
Once again, they laugh. I smile along with them, but it’s an honest truth. I don’t understand how I ever became friends with Stone and his family. They probably have a new pair of underwear fo
r every day of the week. I’ll never understand the lifestyle of the privileged.
“Well, it’s no mind to me what you wear. It’s all a fruitless game of falls and ladders if you ask me. Everyone getting bent sideways about who fancies who and finding the right ladder to climb to the top. In the end, we all fall down back to where we began. But know you’ll get a few odd looks. So no groveling when we get there, and you realize you’re out of style? What are you going to do in the meantime? You can’t stay at the inn all day.”
“I’m going to tour the capital, just as you said. Of all the visits I’ve accompanied you here, I’ve never actually experienced the city. It’s so vast. There’s too much to explore. I’ll be fine. I’ll roam the markets, visit the ports, and definitely take a tour of the Museum of Azurian Artifacts. I’ve never been.”
“Sounds like you already have your day planned,” Arden chimes in.
“Yeah, and it sounds way better than what we’re doing.” Stone gets disciplining looks from both his parents. He cowers and offers an apology, holding back a smile while looking at the floor. Jay giggles at him.
If it were my mother, she’d smack me upside the head. I’d end up doing an extra share of chores for an entire cycle of seasons.
“Okay, Elder, but you’re going to be on your own all day. After the tailor, Arden has a few errands of his own he must attend to. And then we’ll meet back here prior to dinner, okay?” Shae proposes.
Season of Sacrifice (Blood of Azure Book 1) Page 34