by Aaron Yeager
“That’s pretty good range for a seed,” Spirea said, spinning her staff in her hands.
“The royal family has its secrets,” Athel commented, breathing heavily.
The Eiria rolled onto its back in the air, its bound tongues hanging limply over its brow as its large gray eyes rolled back into its head. With a snap, the creature righted itself and kicked off, speeding toward the ground at an angle. Spirea flipped her staff over and tightened her grip, and the vines on the creature’s tail pulled back, attempting to impede its movement, but the angle was weak for the vines, and the creature continued.
“He’s coming right toward us,” Athel warned as she reached to take hold of Spirea’s staff.
“I don’t need your help.” Spirea shouted, pulling the staff away from Athel’s grip.
You are too weak to stand alone, that is why you were chosen, Spirea heard her mother’s voice echoing in her mind.
“Which is more important, your life, or keeping me from touching your staff?” Athel asked curtly.
Spirea focused her attention and gripped her staff. At her command, the vines bound to its tail whipped out in all directions, wrapping around rooftops, towers, and even a passing passenger liner, anything to slow it down.
Rooftops cracked and towers groaned. For a moment the creature slowed then came a horrible shriek as vines snapped, spraying green vital fluids in all directions. The creature let out a roar and sped down toward the pair of miniscule Naval officers on top of the curio shop in the middle of the plaza.
“Well?” Athel demanded.
“I’m thinking about it!” Spirea deflected.
You can do nothing of your own, which is why you were chosen, Spirea’s mother’s voice persisted.
“Okay, I’m here,” Alder announced as he weakly reached the roof of the building. The shadow of the falling creature crawled across Alder’s sickly face and he looked up at the monstrous creature descending on them.
“Good, now go back down,” Athel commanded.
“Right,” Alder agreed, climbing back down as quickly as his thin little arms would allow.
How can I love a mere vessel? Spirea'smother asked spitefully as the creature’s shadow washed over them.
Spirea gave in and offered Athel her staff, disappointment covering her face. The two Treesingers gripped it, and the entire plaza around them split apart as great roots and vines burst forth, growing together and forming a canopy above them that the Eiria crashed into.
The roots and vines creaked and screamed as they bent inward, absorbing the tremendous impact of the great beast. From their vantage under of the canopy, Athel and Spirea watched as the ceiling bent inward, coming closer and closer to them.
The two women cried out in exertion, forcing all of their will into the roots to strengthen them. The building cracked and crumbled, partially caving in on itself as the creature finally came to a halt.
Feeling a great weight pressing down on her, Spirea realized that she had been closing her eyes. When she opened them, she found herself smothered underneath one of the Eiria’s great gray eyeballs. The eye twitched back and forth, pulling Spirea’s face from side to side as it moved. The eyeball paused, and for a terrifying moment, Spirea looked into the great dilated pupil. The hate and rage she saw within did not scare her half as much as what she saw behind it. An immoral sentience, cold and ravenous, was compelling the creature forward.
The creature lifted up its head weakly, freeing Spirea and allowing her to breathe again. To her side she saw Athel, clutching a severely broken leg in her hands.
The creature pulled its head up further, and Spirea understood its intentions. It meant to bring its face down and smash them like grapes.
Spirea placed her hands on a nearby root, realizing with a jolt of pain that several of her fingers were broken, and closed her eyes. The roots around the Eiria trembled then sprouted weeping thorns which pierced the beast’s thick hide.
The Eiria moaned pitifully as the paralytic poison rushed through its system. Foam poured out of its circular mouth, and its bound tongues went limp.
With a final groan, the poor creature ceased its struggling and closed its eyes. Its breathing remained steady, and Spirea could still feel the tremendous pulsing of its heartbeat, but its will to resist had left it.
“How’d you do that?” Athel asked, weakly. “No poison should be able to affect something that big.”
“Sotols have their secrets too.” Spirea responded.
Terrified patrons began emerging from their hiding spaces amongst the rubble. A few applauded, and a few complained, but mostly they whispered in hushed exclamations to one another. “Treesingers” and “Wysterians” occasionally rose over the murmur of others, and Spirea was irritated to hear the occasional pejorative “Leaf Witches.”
“Hey,” Margaret called out and she ran outside and surveyed the damage, shaking her dusty costume.
“Sorry about your store,” Alder called out, looking small and mousey next to the giant roots and scene of devastation around him as he cradled an injured arm.
“Are you kidding? Real Wysterians fought here! This is the best advertising we’ve ever had!”
Chapter Nineteen
The Empty House
Mandi moaned weakly, her head throbbing as she slowly opened her feline eyes. She found herself in a room made of large granite blocks, red and green heraldry hung from the walls, and warmth came from a small open fire pit at the center. A coat of arms hung smartly on one wall, with the crest in the center for the Madaringa security forces. As she weakly brought herself up on all four paws, she felt something heavy around her neck, and realized that an iron shackle had been placed on her. She tugged in frustration against the chain that connected her collar to the leg of a hardwood bench.
If I change into a person with this thing on it’ll snap my neck,she realized, mewing in irritation as she pulled and struggled against the chain. What kind of crazy kid uses iron shackles anyway?
“Oh, kitty is awake,” the little girl with the pigtails announced as she carried a small box into the room and set it down. “I’m Molly,” she introduced, straightening her poofy pink dress, “and I’ll be your mommy from now on.” She pulled out a small feeding dish and laid it down in front of Mandi. She then produced a brown Occo egg and cracked it on the side of the bowl, emptying its contents and dropping in much of the shell.
“Eggs to make you big and strong, watch it quick it won’t be long,” she sang to herself. Next she produced a banana and mashed it in her tiny hands, the wet clumps falling into the bowl.
“A banana for a treat, wash your hands and take your seat.” Next she pulled out a small yellow fish and tossed it in as well.
“All Kitties loves fish, say a prayer and make a wish.” she sang as she mixed the ingredients with a wooden spoon.
Molly slid the bowl toward Mandi, who looked her straight in the eyes and shook her head back and forth, trying to communicate as best she could without a person's voice box.
“Oh, that’s right,” Molly realized, rummaging through the box and producing a miniature bib and slippers. “Kitty needs eating clothes.”
Mandi meowed angrily and shook her head again. She grabbed the chain with her mouth and tugged on it and then pointed with one paw toward the door. Molly scooted closer to put the bib on, but Mandi snatched it out of her hand with her mouth and tossed it into the fire pit.
Molly furrowed her young brow. “Kitty needs food,” she said sternly. She took a spoonful of the food and tried to shove it in Mandi’s mouth. Mandi hissed and swiped her claws, scratching the girl on one cheek.
Molly stood up angrily and threw the spoon to the floor. She stomped one foot on the ground before running off. Mandi grabbed the spoon with her mouth and tried as best she could to wedge it under the leg of the bench, trying to pry it up enough off the floor to slip the chain off the leg
Molly walked back into the room carrying her father’s security belt and pulled somet
hing black out of the holster.
Oh, please tell me that’s not a shock crystal,Mandi thought.
“Bad kitty,” Molly scolded as she jammed the stone into the cat’s back. Mandi yelped and convulsed with pain. Her vision blurred and then all went dark as she lost consciousness.
Chapter Twenty
Sanitorium
Hanner took a moment to look out the window of the clean white room he was in and watch the sun set gently over the rooftops of the adobe earthworks. He cuddled the small bundle of blankets closer to him and stroked the delicate beard on his newborn’s tiny face and spoke quietly to him.
“You’re so cute when you sleep. Don’t worry; I won’t let anyone think you’re a softie.”
The door to the private room quietly opened and Athel slipped in, followed by Spirea and Alder.
“Hey, Hanner, we came to congratulate the new...uh, father,” Athel said, holding out a small package.
“I heard you left me out of the scrape yesterday,” Hanner said with a wry grin.
“Yeah, we destroyed a whole plaza. You would have been proud,” Athel kidded. “We’ve been filling out paperwork all day.”
“Not a scrape on you, how’d you manage that?”
“Oh, we didn’t. We both got smashed up pretty bad, but Deutzia and Sumac took care of us.”
“Why didn’t they fix him?” Hanner asked, referring to the sling supporting Alder’s injured arm.
“I’m still single,” Alder said quietly.
Hanner let out a quiet chuckle and unwrapped the package, revealing a soft fist-sized brown sphere, the surface wrinkled and pinched.
“What is that? It looks like some kind of dead animal,” Hanner asked, examining it.
“It’s not a dead animal, it’s a cherry.”
“A cherry? Really?”
“Yeah, it was grown right here. Thesdan soil is pretty unique, so it looks a little different than what you’re used to.”
“Well, how is it? Have you tried it?”
“No, of course not. It looks like a dead animal.”
“Well, then why should I have to?” Hanner asked. “Are you using me as your own personal poison tester or something?” Athel put her hands on her hips and he relented. Hanner hesitantly took a bite and then smiled approvingly as a trickle of juice ran down his cheek.
“Pretty good. Needs some hot sauce but not bad.”
“Wow, you got your own room and everything,” Spirea commented as she looked around the whitewashed stone walls. “That’s quite an honor.”
“Actually, the staff insisted,” Captain Evere explained from his seat at the table in the corner. “They said the other new mothers were panicking every time he breastfed the baby.”
Athel turned at the captain’s voice, and nearly let out a yelp of fright when she saw him. His eye sockets were empty, their interiors coated in crumpled scar tissue. One of his black eyes lay on the table before him, while he held the other in his hand, polishing it with a handkerchief.
“Sorry to scare you,” Evere said, “but they were itching me something awful and I just had to clean them.”
“How well can you see with those, anyway?” Spirea asked, morbidly curious.
“See for yourself,” Evere said, setting the clean orb down and rolling it toward her.
Spirea took a step back before catching herself. “That’s okay, I’ll pass.”
“But I thought you wanted to know?” Evere insisted.
“She means no offense,” Alder explained, “but that has been in your eye socket. A Lady like Miss Sotol cannot just pick it up, it wouldn’t be proper.”
“Your future queen doesn’t seem to mind,” Hanner commented with a full mouth, and Alder and Spirea turned to see Athel holding the eye up to her own forehead, rotating it this way and that.
“Wow, the picture just kind of appears in my head,” Athel said energetically, her eyes closed.
“Of course,” Alder sighed, “etiquette is a complex subject, and there are several schools of thought on this matter.”
“Weird, I can see out the back of my own head,” Athel exclaimed, turning the eye around backward.
“You get used to it after a while,” Evere explained, picking up the other eye to clean it.
“So, have you picked out a name for the new baby?” Alder asked.
“Not yet,” Hanner said, “I sent Mina out to pick up an Iberian Namegiver this morning. She should be back any time now.”
The door burst open, instantly filling the room with noise and feathers. Mina fought, half pulling, half being pulled, with a large brown bird, giving off the most hoarse hacking sound possible as it flapped around hysterically.
“That’s fine, just stand there and watch your wife fight with the stupid bird,” Mina complained as she was slammed against the wall by the coughing avian.
“Hang on, woman,” Evere calmed, putting his eyes back in their sockets. “I’m no good to you blind.” Evere and Alder joined in the fray, and after a few frantic moments the bird was pinned in a corner, finally giving up after its wings were secured with a flaxen chord.
“So that’s what it looks like when the cat catches the canary,” Ryin chuckled as he stood in the doorway, looking in on the aftermath of the battle.
“What’s with all the cat jokes?” Mina huffed, plucking away brown feathers stuck in her white fur.
“You’re kidding, right?” Ryin asked, grabbing her long silky tail and shaking it.
“Well, yeah,” Mina began, yanking her tail away and examining it for dirt. “But my people aren’t cats. If anything, we’re closer to a mink or a fox than a cat.”
“Oh,” Ryin said, curling his fingers like claws in front of him. “Don’t get all catty with me.”
“I said knock it off, Colenat. We are not cats!”
“Well, if it bothers you so much, you should explain that to people when you meet them,” Ryin suggested, kicking at some of the loose feathers on the floor.
“That’s dumb,” Mina judged, putting her hands on her hips. “I’m supposed to say, ‘Hi, I’m Mina, I’m a fox not a cat?’”
“Well, if you had done that the first time we met; we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now, would we?”
“Do you have a reason to be here right now, ensign?”
“Oh, I was just passing by and thought you guys would like to meet Invini Gerstun.” Ryin bowed dramatically and Invini walked into the room, clapping warmly.
“Oh, that was delightful,” the young blonde man praised. He had a pleasant face that was accustomed to smiling and the kind of light eyes that were unaccustomed to deprivation. “What a wonderfully energetic crew.”
It took Mina a moment to regain her composure. She smoothed out the skirt on her uniform, swatted a feather off the fur on her leg, and then stood up giving a very smart military salute. “I just can’t tell you how thrilled I am to finally meet you,” she beamed. “I’m Mina Duvare, ship’s navigator and first mate on the Dreadnaught. I am a fox, not a cat.”
“Delighted,” Invini said warmly, returning her salute. “Recruit Invini Gerstun, of the kingdom of Stretis. Level 5 Stormcaller.”
“Really?” Evere asked, unable to contain his admiration. “Is that a personal best or an official rating?”
“Official rating,” Invini reassured confidently. “My personal best is a Level 7.”
“What does that mean?” Spirea whispered to Athel.
“It means this guy could generate enough wind to propel an entire flotilla of ships if he wanted to,” Athel explained.
“That’s a lot of hot air,” Spirea whispered back. She thought she was being discreet, but Mina gave her a sharp glance, indicating that she had caught the comment with her keen hearing.
“It just so happens,” Evere began, “that one of my officers is finally taking his maternity leave. Would you care to join us in the traditional Iber naming ceremony?”
“That sounds amusing,” Invini said, smiling.
“So, what happens now?” Mina finally asked, breaking the silence.
“We wait,” Hanner explained, eyes expectant.
Several more minutes passed, and a few of the people present began shifting their weight, trying to relieve the aching in their cramping muscles.
“What are we waiting for? Ryin finally asked.
“For the bird to name him,” Hanner said, irritated.
“How do we know when it has named him?”
“When it does something,” Hanner grunted. “When I was born, the Namegiver scratched its neck. Hanner is the Iberian word for scratch.
“So, whatever the bird does, you name the kid?” Ryin asked, trying not to laugh.
“Hey, you Ferrans have your stupid traditions, I have my stupid traditions.”
“Ryin, this bird is sacred, show some respect.” Mina scolded.
With a defecating plop, the Namegiver emptied the contents of its bowels onto the bed where it stood. For several moments no one dared speak. They only watched, transfixed, as the bird lay down and went to sleep, its job finished.
“Well, you’re not going to name the baby after THAT, are you?” Invini finally chuckled, breaking the silence.
“I have to,” Hanner said, horrified. Ryin could contain himself no longer, and burst out laughing. Disgusted, Evere and Mina dragged him out of the room as he doubled over with mirth.