When the other bups had filled their bellies, Lootrinea returned the rest of the food to the water. Feeling safe and satiated, the after-meal groggy friends loosened up, and continued their story. The time that passed was elastic, and not one could guess how long it took to tell it all.
“He tried to drown us!” Tory said when they got to the part about Fizzit, frustrated with Barra’s description of the three-eyed stranger.
“He saved us!” Barra yelled in Tory’s face.
“Only after,” Tory set himself up, “he tried to kill us!” he yelled. “You just couldn’t leave it alone, could you? We needed to get home, but you needed us to look into the water?”
Lootrinea watched the back and forth with grave swings of her head. Plicks was biting his lip but shuffling between the two regardless, gaining courage as he went.
“Right,” Barra said. “We shoulda left without ever seeing all this beauty. Shoulda just gone on walking through the fungus in the darkness. We were really getting somewhere then!” Barra was seething.
Tory shook his head. “You can’t make this my fault.” His voice was calm, uncharacteristically severe.
“It’s my fault? My fault that the Loft is dying? My father’s journal—”
“Your father?” Tory interrupted. “He didn’t know what was going on, and neither do you.”
His words stymied Barra, but only for a moment. She matched his serious calm. “What do you know?” she asked. “You haven’t really cared about anything since your mom died.”
Plicks finally stepped between them, “Whoa whoa. You don’t mean that.”
Barra was feverish, confused, and she snarled at Plicks, “Stay out of this!”
Her words hit Plicks hard in the gut, and knocked the wind out of him. His face burned with hurt. He didn’t know what to say or do.
Tory put a hand on his shoulder, and said, “Come on, story-time’s over. Sorry, Venress Lootrinea. We need a little break.” The Rugosic turned his back on Barra and walked Plicks to the other side of the chamber.
Lootrinea said, “It’s just Loo-tri-nea. And, no need to apologize.”
Heaving out a tremendous sigh, Barra sagged like a wilting flower. Red floated in close, rubbed up against her cheek, and coiled a tentacle around her arm. The Nebule held her for several moments, and then shimmered something to Lootrinea. The Aetherial nodded.
Barra raised her head and opened her eyes, and said, “I’m sorry, too. I think… I think I’m… I don’t know.” Some instinct held her tongue. She didn’t want to share more.
Lootrinea nodded, and vibrated, “You’ve been through a lot. Here.” She reached into the shallow water and came up with several tiny yellow stones. “Tuck a few of these in your cheeks. They’ll help you feel better, maybe even well enough to eat.”
Barra accepted the little stones graciously enough, but didn’t like that Lootrinea had noticed her lack of appetite. Putting it out of her mind, Barra tucked the stones into her cheek, and sat down on a thick lily pad.
The Aetherial splayed her arms. She tilted her head like she was listening to something far away. Casting her words out to her divided guests, she said, “Will you excuse me? I need to check on an old friend who’s also recently come for a visit. You’ll be safe here. I’ll not be long.”
Without a delay for objections, Lootrinea slid into the water and disappeared.
21. Corresponding Shapes
Lootrinea swam through the channels of the Drift. The few Abyssals she passed kept their distance, but whether it was out of deference or distaste was unclear. Her journey ended at a room similar to her personal chamber, except that it was smaller. Tentacles pushed up against the short ceiling, she bellowed, and the whole room vibrated-fuzzy. Part of the wall seemed to bulge and flex, and then warped into the shape that Lootrinea knew well. Fizzit leaned against the curve of the wall as casual as picking flowers.
“They’re so young, Fizzit. How can they save us?” Lootrinea seemed sad.
“Loo, Loo, who else? It’s not just chance—although circumstance, perchance?—that found them circling the cirque, circumspect. I may purport to compose, but I maintain the composition positioned them! And, I propose that—though I was poised to impose my proposition—given their condition, I merely acted to expedite their expedition home. They were already on their way, Loo!” He stopped and braided his tails.
Lootrinea was unimpressed with his excuses. “Well, you orchestrated all of this. What shall we do next?”
“Take them the rest of the way home, of course! So few confronted with the crossroads ever leave. We have to help them. Take them to the Roedtaw. He knows the way. The way it has to be… this way or that way…” he said. His multiple voices diverged, taking different words at the end of his thought. He stared, perplexed, at the knotted mess that his tail had become.
“But what about the bups? The Arboreals were never supposed to return to the sea. We made decisions... you were there,” Lootrinea swayed as she spoke. Her hypnotic movement had no effect on Fizzit.
“I don’t have to remember, Loo, I’m still there,” he said with a hint of resentment. Then he added gravely, “The Great Trees are dying. When they’re gone, the sea will follow. And all our homes will be gone.” His eyes flashed as his tails untangled, and he smiled. “Well, there’ll still be an ocean, of course. That’s certain. That’s a lot of water. I think that’s nice, don’t you?”
“Bups,” Lootrinea didn’t bother forming the word with her mouth. The word lingered between them, echoing off the water and the walls.
“Them? They certainly don’t have any other agenda. They’re untainted,” Fizzit declared boldly.
Stabbing forward, Lootrinea put her snout a whisker’s width from Fizzit’s, and said, “One is infected!”
Unflappable, he responded, “That? That’s nothing. A scratch.”
“This is exactly the kind of thing we sought to protect ourselves from. If Argus finds a bridge into the ocean, the whole world is his. Is she part of your plan too? What’s your game? Playing both sides?”
“Both sides? There are only two? That’s a relief,” Fizzit said. Though little space existed between them, Fizzit somehow managed to push even closer to Lootrinea and she retreated ever so slightly. All three of his eyes focused on her and he spoke without humor, “I’ll do whatever I have to do, with or without your help. That scratch is compelling. It binds her to her. It may be the end of her… or her. I don’t know…”
Lootrinea eased farther back from the three-eyed, three-tailed wonder and seemed to consult the room for answers. But it offered nothing more than the comforting sound of water licking at the walls. Fizzit was busy braiding and unbraiding his tails again, like he was solving a puzzle. She asked him, “The Roedtaw?”
“Yes,” he shrugged.
She was skeptical. “He won’t take the bups.”
“He’ll take them.” Fizzit was confident.
“The golden kiss? But the gilded krill are so few. You’d kill them for your dimensionally challenged dreams?” Lootrinea asked, although it was clear she already knew the answer.
Fizzit blinked in a circular wave. “They won’t be the only sacrifices.”
22. Legend
The wading pool lapped gently against the walls. The seagrasses swayed. The kelp stirred. Silent, tiny Abyssals appeared among the polyps and salty mosses only to disappear again without a trace. In a pocket of damp space, somewhere near the bottom of the Cerulean Ocean, three close and lonesome friends were lost.
Plicks was the first to wonder-wander away from the discomfort. Long ropes of light rolled and crisscrossed over the domed ceiling distracting him from the tension. Barra wasn’t acting herself, but he knew she’d never admit to whatever was wrong. Instead of pressing her—and because he was nervous to disturb her—he studied the wall and its many bands of color. He stroked Blue who was floa
ting close, half-in and half-out of the pool. Running a talon over the surface of the water, Plicks made thin waves and watched them travel all the way to Barra. The ripples broke against Tory too, and Plicks noticed an unusual color in the Rugosic’s reflection. Veins of some fire-orange mineral had bonded to Tory’s body. The veins were dull, but they were unmistakable. Startled by the change, Plicks tried to find the right words to ask Tory about it.
Seeing the perplexed expression directed at him, Tory guessed Plicks was about to suggest an apology. No way did Tory think he should be the one apologizing. Irritated, he asked, “What?”
Plicks’ mouth hung open and he pointed at Tory. Again, Tory misunderstood. “Fine. You’re right. I’ll say something.” Under his breath, he added, “It’s not like she’s gonna say anything.” Before Plicks could stop him, Tory splashed over to Barra.
Barra stepped back, self-conscious that he’d see her arm or feel the heat of illness radiating from her. Tory stopped short, respecting what he interpreted as her need for space, and said, “You shouldn’t have yelled at him. You can be angry with me all you want, but you crossed a line when you snapped at Plicks.”
She thought he was accusing her, like all of this was her fault. Tears pushed into her eyes, but she dammed them back. The pressure built in her head, and made it hard for her to respond. Barra would have apologized if she’d known how to say, I’m sorry we might all die because of me. The weight of it was too great for her to say out loud. The words plodded around stupidly in her head until she finally pushed them out. “I’m sorry.” She kept her distance and turned away.
“This is our first spark of hope!” Tory said. “We shouldn’t be barking at each other. We’ve just met an Aetherial! And she’s gonna help us get home, right?” Char bobbed in agreement. Barra though, didn’t seem to share their enthusiasm. Tory realized he’d forgotten something, and said, “I’m sorry, too.”
Plicks had waded in closer. Happy his friends were sorting things out, he was still concerned about the new mineral deposits on Tory’s skin. As he heard the apologies though, he became caught up in them. He reached out to offer his own, and unwittingly caused Barra to flinch away again. This time he didn’t flinch back. He said, “My sisters and brothers are gonna be so jealous! An Aetherial, right? An Aetherial!”
Tory splashed, and Char darted around, excited. Tory said, “She’s amazing! Almost makes this whole crazy adventure worth it!” Still, Barra appeared reserved.
“Come AWWNNN, Barra,” Plicks pleaded. He slapped the water. “Tell me she isn’t the most amazing thing you’ve ever seen!”
Barra didn’t like the attention. The fever—if it was a fever—crawled beneath her fur, poking at her skin. Digging down deep into herself, she decided she had to show them—tell them. But just then, the water garden swelled, and Lootrinea swam back into the chamber, rising up majestically.
“Good news,” said the Aetherial, shaking the room. “The Roedtaw will take you to the Root. There is a detour first, to the Boil, but nothing to worry about.” The Nebules lit up, and Barra thought they recognized the name.
Gathering up his courage, Plicks asked, “What’s a Roedtaw?”
Lootrinea said, “Some say he is a legend, but that word has many meanings. Perhaps, if you look at it from far away, there is only one meaning that matters; a legend is a key for understanding. If you see it that way, then yes, the Roedtaw is a legend, indeed.”
The Aetherial prepared herself, shaking out her tentacles and getting comfortable. The Nebules signaled one another knowingly, and gathered in close. Lootrinea began, “Let me tell you the story of the Roedtaw…”
There was only the ocean. From the Great Void came a screaming rock filled with heat and fury. It scorched the sky, a tail of blue fire trailing behind it endlessly. It plunged into the ocean, but continued to burn as it arched toward the Cerulean sun. In its wake, billowing clouds of dust appeared and expanded; purple, red, and brown, orange, blue, and green. Like a fiery spear through the water it traveled fathoms without slowing or cooling. But the clouds that spilled from it were its body, and so it diminished, smaller and smaller. And though the furious spear did not intend to yield, the sun bore different ideas. Exploding out in a glorious ring of light, a million Nebules were born at once and they flew to intercept the fury.
Well, the angry head of the spear saw the wall, the silent tiny pieces of the Sun protecting their mother, and its fury shed. Layer after layer, jettisoned, as it tried to slow down. The Great Seeds were among the debris, so they say. And when the last layer tore free, what was left was a simple but gigantic creature, careening fast, still unable to stop. A single Nebule saw the truth of it, but instead of crying out, and gathering her brethren, she only gathered herself. She accelerated in bursts and reached a momentous speed. She swallowed the ocean and grew massive. She flew to meet the creature who couldn’t stop. They collided, and from the cataclysm, the handle of the spear broke free and became the first branch of the root, the beginning of all the Great Trees. The head split open and became the first coral of the Drift, the origin of Abyssal life. And something new was born of both, of the courageous Nebule and the creature who carried the heart of fury: the Roedtaw.
When a star falls, the Roedtaw catches it. He carries the star back to the Sun where its body can be consumed by light and born again. That is his eternal journey. He bears the fallen home, forever traversing the Sea in honor of the sacrifice one made for all.
Everyone is on their way to the Roedtaw, even if they don’t know it. The Roedtaw is there, ready and willing. And though his love is for those lost—for a kiss from the sun—his way is open to anyone.
The bups waited, not wanting to end the quiet. Not wanting to wake up from Lootrinea’s story.
Lootrinea explained, “So you see, the Roedtaw can cross the whole of the ocean.”
Barra held her arm close, the pain noticeably relieved by the little yellow stones. She could think again, and though it was a great relief, she knew it wasn’t a cure. She said, “Thank you, really, but we need to go farther than the Root. Is there any way the Roedtaw or—do you know how we can get all the way back to the Loft? Back home?”
“The Nebules have offered to help you with that,” answered the Aetherial.
“What? How?” Tory asked.
“Nebules are born from the sun. They travel through the Void to the Boil where they merge with the ocean and take shape. They can both swim and fly.” Lootrinea let loose several long notes, and the Nebules flashed.
Without warning, Blue grabbed Plicks like they were about to swim, but instead, he flew the Kolalabat into the air. Plicks let out a startled whoop, and they skimmed along the surface of the water. Tory and Barra watched in eager anticipation of their own flights. The swooping pair splashed down together, and Plicks became catatonic. Tory went up to him, cheering, and seeing his expression, asked, “You okay, buddy?”
“Oh yeah, I’m okay. I was just flying,” he said, and then he beamed brighter than Tory would have thought possible. The pieces all fell together for him, and he added, “We’re going home. We’re really going home!”
Barra stroked her sanguine companion, and Red returned her affection by pushing back into her hand. The Nebules could help them get home. It was true. Barra thought about the dangers, and she had to ask, “What about the Kudmoths?”
Somberly, Lootrinea said, “It’s true, you’ll have to find a way to protect the Nebules. One hasn’t safely breached the Root since the Creeper broke the cycle.” She added, lightness and pride returning to her voice, “But I don’t think we can stop them from helping you. They’re too stubborn, and they’ve developed a fondness for you. It’s a kinship, as it should be.”
Red wrapped around Barra and hugged her tight. She even managed to coil a tentacle around the wound, adding her own kind of relief to the mounting strength of the stones. Feeling more like herself with each pass
ing moment, Barra asked, “Well then, when do we leave?”
Lootrinea said, “I’ll take you to him now. But you’ll need to pay him something precious for the ride.”
23. The Roedtaw
Lootrinea led the bups out of the Drift and into the warm, open sea. It was blinding. The bups Loft-attuned eyes had relaxed within the immense coral, and the bright ocean made them sore, even with the Nebules filtering.
They swam around the Drift, passing through the occasional crowds of Abyssals that hovered near the many, busy entrances. Large kelp forests grew from the Drift in places, but some were free-floating spheres. Lootrinea pointed to one swarming with krill. There were rare flashes of gold within the millions of silvery bodies, exactly the way the Aetherial had described them.
Lootrinea swept her arms back and accelerated away. She curled around deftly and snapped her mouth open and closed in a blink. Like a ribbon on the wind, she returned to the bups. She parted her lips, displaying a gilded krill jailed behind her teeth. The small creature swam around frantically, and Lootrinea was careful not to crush it or swallow it. She gestured with her arms and curled into a bow. Barra knew it was their turn.
Tory and Char entered the swirling mass of krill, determined to be the first to grab a prize. Plicks and Blue flew in after, and the ball of crustaceans parted and collapsed around them.
They seemed able to forget how far they were away from home—more than Barra could, anyway. She felt alone, responsible for her friends, but unable to do anything more than follow the Aetherial and hope it worked out. She felt guilty. Fathoms away, she saw colonies of Nebules, voluminous and beautiful, and it seemed to her that their shapes held the answer to some great mystery, and if she looked long enough, she could solve it. Red pulled at Barra and dragged her back from her distant thoughts.
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