Brace imposed herself between the eyeless monster and her daughter, and Red flew in beside them, doing her best to look frightening. The Nebule puffed herself up, and sent flashes of color coursing through her body.
Argus raised his arms and the ooze all around them boiled. But instead of smoke or steam, Kudmoths rose from the bubbles. They gathered in the air and became a deadly extension of Argus’ will.
“Get out of here!” Barra screamed at Red. Startled and unsure, Red didn’t react until the Kudmoths swirled and darted toward her, and then she shifted away at a speed that defied vision. The Kudmoths followed her. Dodging and sliding through small spaces, Red began a series of daunting aerial maneuvers. She dispatched Kudmoths with flicks and sweeps of her tentacles, and even lassoed several at once. Shattered carapaces rained down onto the damp Root.
Argus leaned in closer. Drool slid out of his mouth and over his chin. If his face was capable of showing joy, it did then.
“Run!” Brace commanded her daughter. But Barra wouldn’t listen. She only slid around her mother to an attack position. Argus unrolled a vine from the burgeoning grunge and flung it toward the pair. Brace dove toward her daughter, caught her and rolled away with her. When she stood up, she stared at her daughter with an irresistible blaze in her eyes, and yelled, “RUN!” She threw her daughter with all her strength, and turned to face the eyeless terror alone.
Barra reacted without thinking, righted herself mid-air, and landed, clinging to a far off branch. She turned in time to see her mother scooped up by her feet, and then thrashed from side to side. Barra screamed, but her mother was already breaking free, cutting through the vines that held her. Her mother dropped, scrambled away fast, but then turned to continue the fight. Barra’s heart started again.
Turning to the sounds of distant combat, Barra had no idea where to go for help. She was stronger than she’d been in days, but still weak. Red flew down to meet her, the Kudmoths having broken off their attack. Barra knew they’d be back in greater numbers. She focused all of her will on Red and begged, “Find Tory and Plicks! Find them! Bring them here!” Red understood, and she flew away fast.
Never able to listen to her mother, Barra surged back into the fight where Brace was dodging endlessly. Barra stealthed and flanked Argus, but he knew she was coming. He swatted her aside with a vine before she could get too close. Barra recovered and jumped back in. They fought together, but they were on the defensive. Neither could seem to do any real damage.
Red reappeared with Char and Blue, carrying Tory and Plicks behind her. The Swiftspurs were faltering, and Barra hoped her friends hadn’t arrived only to be pulled into the losing fight. Brace echoed her daughter’s thoughts, and hollered, “We have to get out of here!”
Char dropped Tory close and he loped into the fray. He snagged an attacking vine out of the air and grappled it to the ground. Char pulsed around, pulling attention away from the busy Rugosic. Wary of the thorns, Tory struggled to bend the vine away. He twisted it around on itself, but despite his efforts, a thorn struck him. It hit and caught in one of his new, smoky orange grooves where it ground itself to a nub. Tory snapped the vine, crunches sounding out inside it, and it fell to the Root, limp and lifeless.
Tory yelled out to Barra’s mother, “The camp is almost under control. My dad’ll be here soon!” He dove away from another grasping vine.
Blue swung down from above and dropped Plicks, who was a spinning ball of fur and talons. Plicks shredded a section of the attacking Creeper and left it wriggling uselessly on the floor of the Root.
Char caught a projecting vine, and stuck his many spheres to it as he rolled. He closed up, pulling the vine into a knot, and then he flashed. His light passed into the Creeper, and it seemed to thicken with the light, and Char pulsed even brighter. The Creeper kept siphoning off the energy. It became overfull and split down the middle, breaking open all the way down its length. And then, still knotted up, Char panicked and ignited in a powerful flash of blinding light. The vine erupted, bits splattering everywhere.
“What the…?” Barra whispered. But the fight was reengaged. She saw her mother lagging and yelled to Tory, “We can’t wait for help!” She was spent too, barely able to get the words out.
Argus raised his arms again, and the sludge boiled once more. Kudmoths spawned from the slime, twice as many as the first time. Tory decided that was enough for him, and said, “Let’s go!” The bups scattered with their Nebules. But Barra was opposite from the boys, closer to her mother, and she split off in her own direction.
“Toward the camp!” Plicks yelled to Barra. “Barra!” he hollered again. He was desperate to get her attention, but she was fast despite her weakness, and already too far. Yelling did, however, get him the attention of the Kudmoths.
Tory grabbed Plicks by the scruffs. “That’s done it! Come on!” They sped toward the camp.
Brace was last to leave. She feinted in to attack a few times to keep the ever-expanding reach of Argus occupied. Making sure the bups were clear, she lunged in one last time, and struck Argus across the face with her tail. She had to show him—had to prove to herself—that he wasn’t invincible. The Creeper curled in all around her, and she escaped. She was happy with herself for her parting shot, and didn’t notice that Barra had gone the opposite way from the main area of camp.
Ripping himself down from the Creepervine, Argus stood. Kudmoths swirled around him, buzzing, agitated. He gathered himself and trundled off after Barra. He gained speed as he went, Kudmoths billowing up behind him like he was kicking up angry dust.
Barra ran, Red beside her, but her adrenaline-powered retreat didn’t last long. Her strength was ebbing. Hampered by the throbbing in her arm, she began favoring it, and even her ankle—strained so long ago—was sore. She limped a bit, and then began walking upright. Red kept pulling and tugging at her, but Barra was too confused to understand. The exertion had made her dizzy hot, and it became hard for her to sort out where she was going. She swatted at her friend. “I’ll be alright, Red,” she said through gritted teeth, thinking Red was over-concerned.
Finally, Barra had to stop. Where was the main camp? She shouldn’t have had to run so far. What about Tory and Plicks? And her mom! Where was her mom?! Red wrapped a tentacle around her and pulled hard. Barra pulled back equally hard. “Knock it off!” She yanked the Nebule, and when Red released her, Barra stumbled and fell.
On her back, she realized just how bad off she was. She rolled over and saw a faint radiance. There was a narrow opening in the Root, barely visible, though it wasn’t far. Red floated down beside Barra near her wound. Almost all the fur on the injured arm was gone. The exposed skin was vulnerable and soft. The Nebule encircled it. Red absorbed the dark ooze, but when she finished this time her healthy color did not return.
“Oh, Red, you don’t look so good,” Barra said, delirious. She felt a little better, but was still disoriented. She got up partially, and began hobbling toward the glow of the pool. She didn’t see it, but a dark mound began moving to intercept her. Red saw it and tried to steer Barra away.
Only a short distance from the opening, the slithering mound blocked Barra. He stood hunched over, but with her fever-blurred vision Barra didn’t recognize the Elder without his staff. When he spoke though, she knew it was Jerrun. “You’re a very dangerous little girl.”
Barra wasn’t sure what he meant. She said, “I think I wandered out of the camp...”
“I’m sure you did, and this is an opportunity I might not have again. You’re sick Barra, like your father was sick. And just like him you’re a threat to everyone.” Jerrun’s voice was severe.
Perplexed, Barra stared at the old Rattlebark. She could hear his age in the crackling of his lungs as he breathed.
Maybe it was guilt, maybe it was arrogance—probably there was no good reason at all—but Jerrun was compelled to explain. “I told him not to explore the Mi
ddens. All Argus needs is the right medium, a way to contaminate the ocean and that’s it, we’re all dead. I swore an oath, I won’t let it happen. I know how to deal with the recklessness of the Swiftspurs.” His hands shot out so fast that Barra flinched only after his long slender fingers were holding her fast.
“Let me go!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. Red flogged the Elder with her tentacles, but Jerrun ignored the searing pain. He jumped onto Barra, his arms and legs finding her wrists and ankles with deceptive ease. He pinned her down and moved her hands together so that he could handcuff her with one hand. With his now free hand he grabbed her throat and squeezed.
Red threw herself over Jerrun’s face and wrapped herself around him. Wherever she could find purchase, she pried at him. He released Barra’s neck to swipe at the Nebule. Barra gasped a harsh breath that burned as it passed the rawness of her throat. She tried to scream, but she couldn’t find her voice. She tried to strike Jerrun with her tail, but it was crushed beneath her and she couldn’t prise him off.
Jerrun grabbed the tentacle that was noosed around his throat, and crushed it in his hand. Red flared in an instant, so bright it blinded both Barra and Jerrun. Fungus and Creeper in the area swelled, split open in sprays of yellow-green, and then shriveled away. Jerrun kept squeezing until his hand went all the way through, and the long dismembered piece of Red’s tentacle fell to the Root. The pain was too much. Red released the Elder. Spinning around in the air, Red splattered droplets over the two tangled Arboreals.
Jerrun reached for Barra’s neck again. “I accept the guilt… for the welfare of all the Arboreals of the Great Forest,” he said like he was reciting a litany. He began to squeeze the life out of her again. “It was easier with your father. He willfully disobeyed me. Every attempt I made… I was trying to save him,” he said, detached. “In the end, he was so sick, it only took a little push…”
Jerrun’s grip loosened. Jaundiced white humors were exposed as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He slumped over, and fell to the side of Barra. A Listlespur stood in his place. Whoever it was had saved her life, though Barra couldn’t grasp it. The stranger’s eyes glinted, orange and gray; Barra would never forget them. But the colors swirled together, and her vision blurred. Barra felt like she was spinning, and falling, and she blacked out.
Red held the stump of her injured tentacle curled up against her body. Jaeden scooped up the unconscious Barra. A clicking cacophony approached and Jaeden didn’t need to sample the air to know what was coming. She broke out in a dead run for the campsite, and Red flew after.
Kudmoths filled the air like fast-rolling fog. They buzzed around the pool and the crumpled and robed mound of Jerrun. They collapsed into a tight stormy cloud, reached some collective decision, and then rolled toward the camp.
Soon after the Kudmoths left, Argus slid into the area. Without the stickiness of the fungus clinging to him, he was silent and almost graceful as he approached the tiny crack in the Root. Stopping by Jerrun’s corpse, he stood tall and sniffed wetly several times. He crouched down low to the Root, folding into himself, shoulders between his knees. He sniffed again. He was unconcerned with Jerrun. There was something else that had his attention resting near the body.
It called to him; the mottled, discolored tentacle.
Reaching his hand out, Argus ran a grimy, gnarled finger along the twisted length of tentacle, scraping a sample onto his nail. He held the residue up to the holes where the flesh of his nose should have been. The amputated tentacle of the Nebule was different than any other he’d known. Different because the fungus was alive within it. The Nebule flesh was infected, something he’d been trying to do for as far back as he could remember. Here it was. A gift. Exactly what he’d always wanted.
He cradled the severed limb in his hands. He slid over to a nearby branch, and dunked the limb into an open scar. Turning it over and over in the sap, he coated it. Satisfied that the tentacle was protected against suddenly sparking to ash, he smiled. Ooze drooled from his face. He took three long strides, and faded away into the wood.
Hanging down from an overhead tangle of roots by two of his three tails, Fizzit lowered himself. At the extent of his tails, he flipped like he only weighed as much as a feather, and landed on his feet. He pulled back his hood and knelt beside Jerrun.
“It’s like I said, old friend. Sacrifices.”
30. Surviving
The campsite was in disarray, but already pulling itself back together. Injured Arboreals were gathered for triage, some limping along while others were carried into the central clearing. There were mutterings about what had happened, and who was missing.
“Where’d all the lights go?” an injured Nectarbadger murmured. Searowe tapped out a small ribbon of gauze from a ball of silk in a pouch that crossed over his shoulder. His nails were long and curved with thin, hollow channels that he used to guide his thread. He was a master, capable of knitting almost anything if the right material was available. The Nectarbadger had a nasty gash in his head. The area of the injury was cleaned and treated, and the hair removed.
“Bite down on this,” Mareki placed a piece of bitter tasting bark in the Nectarbadger’s mouth. “Harder. Come on, now.” The hurt Arboreal’s teeth finally pierced the outer skin of the bark, and an anesthetic sap bled into his mouth. “Don’t spit it out. I know, I know. It tastes terrible. Just hold on.” Pinching the skin together with two long fingernails, Searowe tapped all the nails of his other hand in a flurry of motion. He sutured the gauze directly to his patient’s skin, doubled it and sewed it down again. He scrutinized his work. Mareki stood up, while Searowe finished evaluating, and said, “The bark will dissolve. Chew it until it’s all gone. It’ll help.”
Searowe, satisfied, stood up to join Mareki, but before they could move to the next patient, they heard a loud ruckus. It sounded like they’d found Brace and the bups. Mareki smiled, took a moment to breathe, and went back to work. A kind, compassionate expression softened his face, and he questioned the next patient, “Where does it hurt?”
“Where’s Barra? Where’s Red?” Brace said to no one as she looked over the camp. Some Arboreals were asking her questions, but she wasn’t listening. Luke Mafic gave her a status report, but she didn’t hear it. She grabbed Luke. “Where’s Barra? Have you seen Barra!?” Her body was tense like a coiled spring. Her voice stabbed the crowd and slayed their chatter.
“She’s not in the camp,” Luke said.
Brace’s eyes darted around, searching for the quickest path to Plicks and Tory. Making her own path, she pushed through the crowd.
The sudden quiet alerted Plicks. He kissed his mother, who’d been injured in the fight, and ran toward Barra’s mother. As he closed the distance, he said apologetically, “She was running off in the wrong direction when we left. You didn’t see her?”
Brace’s heart pounded. Not again. Not again.
A wave of voices drowned out her thoughts. Jaeden, Red, and Barra had just arrived. Released from her terror, Brace ran toward her daughter.
Tory looked down at Plicks, who was tearing up. Tory said, “It’s not your fault. We didn’t abandon Barra. We thought she was right behind us. Hey, everyone made it.” Tory glanced up and saw Ven Battidash, Plicks’ father, watching from where he sat with his wife. He had an expression of genuine gratitude on his face. Tory smiled, and Blue folded himself around Plicks. The nervous Kolalabat breathed a heavy sigh of relief, and went back to his mother.
Jaeden cradled Barra. Brace didn’t know how to say thank you as she took her daughter. All she could do was cry and hold her close to her chest.
“Her throat is going to be raw, but I got there in time. She’ll be alright.” Jaeden’s words were firm.
Brace shuddered with relief. She wiped the tears from her eyes, and her mettle returned. She spoke to Jaeden, “Spread the word. We break camp, now.”
31. Remembering the F
allen
The Arboreals were unsure how to care for their dead. They were at the Root. The tradition of committing loved ones to the Fall wasn’t possible. The usual downy rope used to cocoon the body could not be found, and wouldn’t have worked in the ocean. But they found delicate metallic threads in beautiful silvery sprays near the fissures into the sea, and braided them into heavy bands to bind and anchor the bodies. They spoke few words and cast the lost, one by one, into the sea. The effect on the gathered survivors was profound; they saw their loves carried into the light. But there was no time to dwell on the implications. They broke camp.
The company moved slowly over the Root. Barra slept, but not well, until she finally woke, screaming. More of a strangled “erp” than a scream, now that she was conscious. Looking around, testing her limbs, Barra discovered she was strapped to her mother’s back. She felt like the scruffs on a Kolalabat. Her head was heavy and thick with fog, and her muscles were sick-sore.
Closing her eyes, Barra remembered the dream, her nightmare.
There were thousands of Nebules drifting together, lost in the ocean. Then they were caught in the Creepervine, the fungus strung between them like thick, dark webbing. Some of the Nebules were free, shooting through the water leaving trails. But black vine-fingers formed out of nothing and snatched them too. Barra was overcome with a terrible sadness, incapable of helping her entangled friends. They needed to be set free or they would dissolve into nothing. They needed to be free to survive. The webbing sucked the light from them in spirals of sparkling dust. There was an ache deep in her chest, but then—in only the way a dream can—everything changed without changing. Barra hovered above the Boil. The fungal webbing was gone. A vivid, multicolored fleet of Nebules circled happily. They churned like clouds of ink in a whirlpool. Then suddenly the fleet flew toward the Boil, a million heads of light burning trails of fire into the ocean. The hot streaks cooled but never caught up. The Nebules hit the Boil and became distorted. They rearranged into bursts and arcs. And the ache returned, sadness as vast as the ocean, and as heavy. But the dream changed. Barra stood with Red, stoking her fondly. They held each other, but faltered. Red withered in Barra’s arms. One tentacle was only a blackened stub, but it gripped Barra’s wounded arm like binding wire. Even as the rest of Red wilted, she squeezed the poisoned arm harder. Red grew thorns and bit into Barra’s flesh. Dragging Barra behind her like a toy, Red flew. Through the Boil and into the void, they joined the other Nebules headed for the Sun. Barra couldn’t breathe. She struggled against Red, begging for help. And then Red let her go. Alone and suffocating, Barra screamed.
Sunborn Rising Page 20