by Al K. Line
What if it gets blown out? We'll just drop to the ground and die.
Arcene hadn't even considered such a thing, but it was a real possibility, and as she stared at the flame she turned a little, catching Fasolt's eye. He nodded at her, knowing her thoughts, his mastery of The Noise meaning he could read her mind as easily as if she'd spoken — she hated it when he did that; some things were private. So it could happen, and this is why he was terrified. Not of only losing his own life, but her's too, and Leel's. He loved Leel, although he often acted grumpy around her and called her names, but Arcene knew deep down he thought of them both as family. And they were.
"Think it's over?" asked Arcene breathlessly, peering over the rim of the basket, then standing.
"No, stay down. We're in the eye of the storm, you haven't seen anything yet. I hate hot air balloons."
"You said."
"Yeah, well, I really, really do." Fasolt's head was now tight against the rope, hair weaved as thoroughly as Arcene's pigtails, but in the stillness he managed to untangle some of the dreadlocks and Arcene gathered up those that spilled over the sides, hanging like spare tethers for if they ever got close to the ground again.
The silence intensified, the balloon dropped, and Fasolt reached to turn up the burner, trying to raise their altitude, maybe get above the storm and wait it out.
Crack. Crack, CRACK!
The sky split; lightning forked. Leel's blue-gray fur shot erect, and Arcene watched as the electrified hairs on her arms stood to attention. She felt funny, like her brain had been fried. Was she hit? No, she'd be dead, wouldn't she?
CRACK!
Again, and again, the sky ionized, feeling thick, heavy like a blanket. The only thing Arcene couldn't figure out was where was the rain? Wasn't there always rain with a storm?
The balloon lurched, lifted as a strong eddy swirled beneath. Arcene's stomach felt like it hit her comfortable boots.
They sped onward, all sense of direction lost as they spun wildly until she had no clue what was up or down, east or west.
The darkening sky somehow took a chance to recover. Arcene was facing the lowering sun once again, the orb now a fierce red, split through the middle by the jagged silhouette in the distance. They were heading that way fast, but as far as she could tell they were well above it, their main concern was merely surviving the storm.
Taking advantage of the calm, Arcene peered over the edge, pale blue eyes taking in the ground far below, the tops of trees flashing red, then as silver as her hair as the lighting arced and trees erupted into flame, the forest catching fire — if it didn't rain it would be decimated, all the creatures living lives in this patch of the United Kingdom would be homeless, or worse.
At least they won't run out of trees. No fire can destroy them all, thought Arcene. They dominated now, the only world she had ever known. But she was born into the world hundreds of years after The Lethargy, the unknowable epidemic that decimated the human population, almost wiping the planet clean of humanity and allowing it to start afresh.
A world unknowable to Arcene, nothing but fairy tales and nonsense as far as she was concerned.
She shook herself. What a time to be thinking such things. She couldn't help it, she smiled. This was life, real living. Adventure and chaos, out of control and wild, much like she had been, and to some degree would always be.
Arcene wanted a cuddle, wanted to pick up her boy and smother him in kisses until he moaned at her to stop and hopped off her lap to get into mischief. He was like her in so many ways, the main difference being he would never be alone.
Not like she had been when not much older than him and her mother succumbed to The Lethargy and she had to survive in an unforgiving world that forced a young child to care for her parent as she sank deeper and deeper into oblivion, emerging now and then, aware she was slowly fading into nothingness but unable to stop it
Her son, her beautiful baby boy. She missed him terribly. Missed the crying, the whining, the tugging at her kilt for treats and to coax her to play. She missed it all.
But the freedom of being out in the wilds, the adventure she'd just had, it was what she needed. To be herself, return to the carefree ways of her past, living out in the open, fending for herself, coping and reveling in what the following day would bring.
It was just a shame it now involved a hot air balloon and a terrible storm. This was not the way she would enter The Void, no way. She had plenty more living to do — hopefully many thousands of years more.
Fasolt had already lived for over three hundred years and she would beat that, live out the millennia until their age difference meant little, and she would forever remain a fifteen-year-old girl, her mind never truly turning into that of an adult because of the things she had done to her own body: chemical reactions static, maturity never coming and she was glad.
"We're going down," screamed Fasolt. The balloon dropped like a rock. "Hang on."
She felt it a moment after his warning, and he wasn't kidding. The wind was coming down vertical, pushing them like they were nothing, and the balloon strained under the downward pressure. Arcene feared it would crumple entirely under the force, but it held fast. The storm exploded around them again, all the worse for the silence that came before.
Once again, lighting split and forked, the sky alive and lethal; more trees erupted into flame below. The balloon descended ever lower, until Arcene was sure she could reach out and touch the top of the highest trees. Mighty oaks grown massive, soaring above the canopy and sending crooked fingers into the sky.
Fasolt fought with the burner, barely able to reach it from his trapped position, but it was a losing battle, the downward pressure was too great. They sank.
The basket bounced along the tops of trees, punched back high into the air as it hit the dense forest, only to bounce back down and crash again. Arcene bent and gripped Leel's thick leather collar, an old belt now back to faded brown leather after an attempt to make Leel more feminine by painting it red — it had worn off after a few days of Leel doing what she did best: getting into trouble, just like her mistress.
With a moment of insight, and a "just in case" scenario, Arcene fumbled about on the floor of the basket and hoisted the modified backpack onto Leel then buckled up the straps. No easy task when Leel refused to sit up properly and kept trying to hide her eyes behind her paws, meaning every time she lifted them she fell flat onto her belly, not making the connection.
"You stupid dog, sit still for a minute. What if the backpack gets lost? We'd have none of our snacks left then, or any water." That wasn't quite true as Fasolt had brought plenty, but it was stashed away and unreachable in the compartment at the moment. The last buckle finally done, Arcene hugged Leel tight and whispered, "Good girl."
Woof. Woof, woof.
"I wish I could stop it, Leel, but don't worry, it'll be over soon."
"Look out, you better hang on." Fasolt twisted the dial on the burner frantically, but it was too late and the basket bounced from one tree top to another. Flame engulfed them.
Arcene ducked as they came at the top of the blazing tree fast, the heat intense, nothing but smoke, fire, and the impossibility of breathing. Her eyes watered, her lungs filled with smoke, and everywhere was heat. They were past in a second.
"That was close," said Arcene with a smile and a cough. "I thought, ugh," she paused to cough again, "that we were gonna be all crispy."
"Arcene, Arcene!" Fasolt pointed with his head toward the side of the basket.
She peered over and saw that the tether ropes hanging over the side were aflame. Fire licked up the ropes, higher and higher. Arcene reached over her shoulder, felt the reassuringly cold steel of the hilt of her sword, the red pommel tickling her wrist as it swung in the ferocious wind, and whipped out the blade. She leaned out as far as she dared and swung wildly at the blazing rope, trying to cut it away from the basket, but it wasn't working.
They were wobbling too much and leaning out put the whole
balloon into a spin. She tried one last time and managed to slice the rope, but even as she did so her feet heated up and little flames licked through the wicker floor.
"The other rope, I didn't do the other rope."
"Pour water on it. Quick, quick," instructed Fasolt.
The balloon rose sharply as the wind changed direction, coming fast from the east, pushing them toward the setting sun faster and faster. The flames fanned, climbing higher, until the floor was red and Leel stood in terror, not knowing what to do or where to go.
"Ah, stay still, Leel, my hand's caught." Arcene hopped from one foot to another, trying to get her hand out from where it had slid through up to the wrist on Leel's collar as she squirmed in panic.
Managing to sheath her sword, Arcene fumbled one-handed to undo the backpack to get at the water, but Leel wouldn't stay still and the stupid contraption rocked and bucked wildly, reminding Arcene of the first time she came across a horse in the wilds when she must have been about nine and thought it would be fun to go for a ride — she spent the next week with a sore bottom and had a dislike for carrots to this day.
The trees were now about ten feet below them but they weren't gaining much altitude. That was the least of their concerns, as the basket smoked and the flames licked higher. Arcene managed to get a bottle of water out of the backpack then shouted to Fasolt, "Use your knife you idiot, cut your hair off."
Fasolt stared at her like she had gone stark raving mad. She knew it was a lost cause, had long held the suspicion he drew power from his ever-longer dreadlocks — they seemed to grow many feet each year. Now well over four meters and showing no sign of slowing down, Fasolt's demeanor improved the longer they grew, and he became the man he said he'd always wished he could have been. So there was no way he would cut them off just because he was stuck to the rope and their transport was on fire.
"Okay, here we go." Arcene upended the bottle onto the matting and it sizzled, a satisfying sound heard above the howl of the wind.
There was a creak and a feeling of sinking, just as the wind changed direction again. Lightning flashed and the balloon skirted to the right, heading northward, pace picking up and finally ascending.
"We'll be all right, it's working," said Fasolt with a smile, undoing one trapped dreadlock and working as fast as he could on the next. He stared at the end of a handful as he hauled them over the side, the ends singed and smelling terrible.
"Yeah, I think the storm's behind us now. Look, it's getting brighter." Arcene was right, the sky was clearing, the dark clouds dissipating. The landscape revealed itself.
Then the bottom fell out of the basket. Leel dropped into nothingness, closely followed by Arcene, hand still trapped in her collar.
She didn't even have chance to scream.
Fasolt drifted higher and higher, saved by his knotted dreadlocks, and was whisked away.
Lighting crackled in the distance, the sun took a final chance to shine before it sank behind the strange silhouette to the west, and two friends crashed into the canopy of the forest.
Another Adventure
Arcene felt the bottom fall out of her world, and the only thing she could think of was she hoped she didn't break her sword. Her life didn't flash before her eyes; she was rather calm. She had been on enough adventures, come close to death so many times because of others or because of a little bother she had got herself into due to her insatiable curiosity, that she no longer felt the gut-wrenching fear of death. She knew it wasn't her time, the world still had too much to offer, and her it.
That didn't mean it wasn't terrifying, it just meant that as she was dragged down by Leel she had the foresight to act, and act fast. As she dove headfirst toward the trees, she moved her free hand from her side and took hold of Leel's collar. She dragged herself to Leel and ended up astride her friend as Leel's legs pawed the air in total panic.
I'm riding Leel like a horse, but a flying horse.
Arcene unhooked her caught hand by pulling the collar away a little and turned Leel so she was belly down, then released the stressed dog and moved away from her a little. It all happened so fast she had no time to think, merely acted on instinct, doing what she could to save them. Less than a second had passed but time was up. They would hit and the only thing that would save them was the fact they hadn't fallen far so were nowhere near maximum velocity.
"Stay calm, Leel. Grab a branch and don't fall out of the tree."
Woof, woof, woof.
"I know, but we don't have any other choice. Get re—"
Oomf.
Their fall ended simultaneously, smacking into the top of an oak tree belly first then tumbling from the dying light into darkness as the canopy enveloped them. Leel whimpered and Arcene clutched wildly for anything to halt her fall, but the canopy closed behind them and it was impossible to see as leaves and branches whipped past in a blur, the only sound her own heavy breathing and Leel's frantic moans as the massive body of the dog descended at a faster rate.
Something slammed into Arcene's side and she was spun to her right, tossed around like she was caught in a riptide until she didn't know which way up she was. Branches slapped her body as she continued to fall. She did the only thing she could think of: she reached up above her head and hooked her hands, hoping she would catch a branch.
She continued to fall.
"Ugh! Ow, ow ow." Arcene's bottom felt like she'd been slapped with a bat. But at least she wasn't moving. She was sat on a wide branch, legs dangling over the edge like she was just having a nice time climbing trees and hadn't just lost her transport home and had no clue where she was. She wobbled and began to topple backward but put out a hand to steady herself.
"Leel, are you okay?" The sound of Leel's bulky frame breaking branches and snapping twigs had stopped, so hopefully Leel was sat on a branch too, or could she be dead?
Her own predicament forgotten, Arcene let her mind go to that special place that gave access to The Noise, the place that wasn't a place, the thing that was no thing, the energy behind reality, the energy that was everything, that those who were Awoken were granted access to, and she let her mind expand and reach out into the forest.
It was almost a single entity when seen via The Noise: old, ancient, a slumbering presence made up of countless trees each with their own personality and a tiny sense of self buried deep down and unknowable in a dream world they never even knew they were a part of, but there nonetheless. Arcene wasn't hunting for tree life though, she expanded her consciousness, searched for sentience, for her friend, nervous and afraid — Leel couldn't be dead, she just couldn't be. What would she do without her?
There, there she was! And alive. "Yes." Arcene felt as much as saw the happy glow of the blue Great Dane, although that was just the name of a breed created by humans hundreds of years ago.
Now the blue was almost genuine, a deep hue that practically shone after the endless breeding programs that resulted in Leel, not exactly the pinnacle of Marcus' success, the man that had bred her, who had been rather disappointed she had turned out to be the fun-loving, excitable and rather needy Leel, soppy and like a child even at nine, rather than the fierce guard dog she was supposed to be. But she was alive.
Her friend, her best friend, she was alive and showing a strong lifeforce in The Noise where there was no place to hide and your true self was revealed to those with the power to look behind the thin veneer of what others took to be reality.
Arcene smiled and withdrew to the regular world. She used her Awoken state to force her pupils to dilate as much as was possible without risking permanent damage, and the signal her eyes sent to her brain slowly made sense.
It was like looking through night vision goggles, an ancient artifact she had once spent a week wearing constantly after she found them, never once taking them off, exploring the world in a way that had left her disoriented for days as she tried to adjust to the fact that the world wasn't tinged green and when it was dark it was dark.
Bending fo
rward, Arcene peered down through the gaps in the branches to where she had seen Leel. There she was, spread-eagled across two branches, paws over her eyes like it would make it all go away and everything would be all right.
That dog is so stupid, but I suppose it's better than her trying to jump down and getting impaled on a branch.
A terrible thought came to Arcene, and she reached over her shoulder in panic — it was still there, her sword, her constant companion apart from Leel. An ancient sword, blade still as sharp and deadly as when it was made many lifetimes ago in Japan, a place Arcene wished she had been born in — the tales of Samurai held her in thrall whenever she read of them and their exploits, her love of anime and Lone Wolf & Cub boundless.
Arcene went through life often thinking of her adventures as movies like the ones she loved so much, and when she had been given her sword she felt an even deeper bond with a culture she had never known and knew was lost three hundred years ago along with everything, and everyone else.
Still, she would have loved to have been a Samurai, except they didn't let girls do it, which was stupid. She was invincible in a fight, and any man underestimated her at their peril. That's what she thought, anyway.
Woof?
Arcene stopped her daydreaming, just happy her sword was intact, and turned her attention back to the rather pressing matter at hand: how to get herself and Leel down from the tree.
She scratched at her chin while she tried to think about how best to get a dog larger than a human being, that wasn't adept at climbing trees, down. Something felt strange; she moved her hand from her chin. It was sticky, wet and gloppy. Did her head hurt? It did. In the confusion and stress of the situation there was no time to assess the damage to her body, but as she took a look inside herself she realized it wasn't just her bum that hurt.
Her arms were covered in little scratches, her head really hurt, and as she tentatively poked at her chin there was no doubt she had a rather nasty gash dripping blood all over her tight black vest.