by Leigh, J.
Jathen was not squeamish. He had seen tyrn hunt before, swooping down to snag fish out of a river. Yet, there was something alien in the way Ass’shiri moved with the same coiled, shivering intensity as Tinzy had when stalking a bug. Bestial, as Hatori said. The things from long-forgotten nightmares.
“You did well,” Ass’shiri said and wiped the red from his lips with his sleeve. “We usually Feed in private, as most people tend to get a bit squeamish, even the Tyr’sat. I’ve seen a few curious humans brought up outside the Lands vomit all over themselves after watching. But you were steady as a rock.”
Happy Ass’shiri couldn’t read his thoughts, Jathen responded, “Must be the Tazu blood.”
“Ha! Come on. Let’s get back to our little abode and try to cook this.”
Ass’shiri was able to conjure a few sparks out of a fire-charm, and dinner was underway. By the time it was ready to consume, dusk had fallen, and they accepted the fact that they were going to have to settle in for the night.
“So long as nothing eats us in the meanwhile.” Jathen yawned, so exhausted that he almost didn’t care.
“Naw, not with the Iki out there. The natives might not drop by to say hello, but trust me, they know we’re here. They’ll steer any big beasties away from us.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I’m not,” he said, positioning himself at the entrance to the shelter, crossbow ready. “That’s why I’m going to stay up all night and make sure. Sleep tight. You need the rest more than I do. Much as I joke about malaria, I really don’t want to see you get sick.”
“Thanks, Ass’shiri.” Jathen fell into a deep slumber.
A low mystical tone emanating from far out in the thick trees woke Jathen up. The notes seemed to rise and fall with the wind and drips of moisture.
“What is it?” he asked, creeping closer to Ass’shiri. The forest had gone still but for the sounds of buzzing insects and the strange musical pitches.
“Iki are singing,” Ass’shiri replied, head turned to the side.
“It doesn’t sound like any singing a person could make.” Jathen shivered. “It’s more like the jungle itself is breathing.”
“Interesting observation, considering the Iki have two sets of vocal cords.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. They are part plant, you see, and have two sets of respiratory systems. One breathes in oxygen and exhales carbon dioxide, and the other breathes in carbon dioxide and exhales oxygen.”
“How does that work, biologically? It seems impossible.”
Ass’shiri laughed good naturedly. “How does a Tazu shift, Jath? Or a Clansman Feed? Some things we only know so much about. You want deeper answers, find an expert.” He shrugged. “In the meanwhile, enjoy the music.”
Picking out a pattern from the noise, Jathen heard the dual tones of Iki voices. “It is beautiful. Eerie, but beautiful.”
By noon the next day, after hours of marching, they’d seen no sign of the road.
“We should have met up with someone by now,” Ass’shiri said, staring up at the overcast sky. It had drizzled on and off all morning, but nothing compared to the downpour of the previous day. “I can’t imagine we went that far downriver.”
“The water was moving pretty fast,” Jathen said, trying to keep his own worry in check. “And we did stop to rest.”
“Yeah, but I doubt they would have stayed put and not come looking for us. At least not everyone.” Some bird or other creature called out from the forest, cackling and ominous. “And that’s another thing. This jungle is too dense, too close to the riverbank. It’s almost as if we are down past the Natkz Falls.”
“Maybe we are. It was quite chaotic in that water, Ass’shiri.”
The Clansman snorted. “Not chaotic enough for us not to notice going over a hundred-heads-high waterfall.” He shook his head. “Something’s not right here, Jath. Where did that surge come from, anyway? Granted, the spring rains cause flooding, but the downpour had only just begun.”
Jathen sighed, unable to shake the irrational sense that their current predicament was somehow his fault. “I don’t know what to tell you. The only option I see is to keep walking until we find the road.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” Ass’shiri sucked some air through his teeth. “I just don’t like it.”
An hour later, they came upon a break in the trees. The clearing was wide, with tall grasses swaying in a subtle breeze.
“It’s beautiful,” Jathen murmured. So far, the beauty of the real natural world versus the artificial creations of Tazu architecture had been lost on him, probably because most of what he had seen had been flat and brown or out to kill. What made the clearing charming was that amid the sea of green and brown were low, rolling mounds blanketed with thousands of white flowers. The little dots of feathery ermine reminded him of the glassworks of home, and he smiled.
Ass’shiri, however, was not entranced. Scanning the landscape with a grim line to his lips, he clutched Jathen by the hood of his coat and tugged him back. “Stay close,” he whispered.
“Why?”
“Not sure. Just a feeling.” Ass’shiri held his crossbow at the ready. “Open spaces always make a sniper nervous.”
“If we keep closer to the mounds, we can have a bit of cover,” Jathen pointed out. “There seems to be a bit of a path through them toward the opposite side of the waterline. If we keep to it, we’d have at least one side covered for most of the walk.”
“Sounds good. Let’s go.”
Altering their route slightly to exit the trees by the closest of the flower-strewn mounds, they picked through the undergrowth with care, moving as stealthily as possible amid the briars and ferns.
Ass’shiri stopped, stuck his finger in his mouth, and then held it up in the air. “Upwind. Good for me shooting into, bad for us sneaking along. Careful.”
Jathen nodded. As they neared the first mound, the wind changed. “Ew!” Jathen wrinkled his nose as the new breeze brought a gut-turning odor their way. His eyes tearing, he covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve. “What is that?”
“Thought so,” Ass’shiri murmured, squinting as he sniffed. “I caught a little waft of it on the way up.” He peered at the sky. “No vultures, though. That means whatever’s still rotting out there has something to keep them at bay.”
“Ugh. That doesn’t smell like a fresh kill.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Ass’shiri said. “But some predators wait until it’s rotted to eat, and there are scavengers that are bigger and meaner than vultures. Let’s just hope that’s the case, and whatever’s munching on that nasty-smelling carrion is too busy with it to bother with us.”
“What if it’s not?”
“Then let’s hope it’s the type of beastie that can’t take more than a single bolt to the eye before going down.”
Cautiously, they made their way down to the mounds.
Jathen examined the knolls as they went, the varied sizes and shapes interesting to his architectural eyes. “Do you think these are natural? They seem... off somehow.”
Ass’shiri shrugged. “Maybe something the Iki have made.”
“Maybe.” Jathen placed a palm on the nearest pile of earth, careful not to disturb the delicate flowers. Beneath his hand, the knoll rose and fell as if it were breathing. “Ass’shiri…”
“What?”
“The mound moved.”
“What?” Ass’shiri spun around, focusing intently upon Jathen’s hand. The earth rose and fell, but with an audible groan. The Clansman blanched. “Hana-hiru,” he whispered, his lavender eyes white rimmed. “Jath, take your hand off it... slowly. Very, very slowly.”
Jathen gingerly removed his hand, frowning as he translated the Clan word. “Flowers? What kind of flowers?”<
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The mound shifted, and a bloodshot eye opened where his palm had rested. Jathen yelped, jumping back and crashing into Ass’shiri.
“Flower leeches,” the Clansman hissed, clamping a hand down over Jathen’s mouth and steadying him. “They swarm their prey and then suck all life out of them.”
Jathen watched in horror as the beast rolled its eye back into its head and closed the lid. He looked over the bulk of the flower-covered form. The size of it! It has to be some kind of wild dragon. As he stared, the little white buds stirred, rising to drift in their direction.
“Hood up! Put your hood up!” Ass’shiri shrieked. “Run!”
As Jathen flipped his hood over his head, he heard an inhuman screech. He ran after Ass’shiri, through a snowstorm of lecherous death, blinded by the sheer volume of the killer buds as they swarmed around them.
Jathen clawed continuously at his face to keep the monsters from latching upon his flesh, but for every two or three he dislodged, another dozen bonded to his hands, neck, face, and chest. There are too many. He lost his friend somewhere in the cloud. He wanted to call out for Ass’shiri, but the thought of having one of the buds fly down his throat sickened him.
Jathen stumbled and felt the energy from his body draining. He managed a few more steps, but then his legs went numb.
He collapsed under the sea of white.
Chapter 23
Fire bloomed.
From nowhere and everywhere, the flames billowed and swirled, searing and sizzling the hana-hiru but leaving Jathen unburned. Sitting up, he gazed through the smoky haze and spotted Ass’shiri lying near enough to touch. Before Jathen could call out, a man with black wings descended, fire and smoke whirling around him in a shroud of mystery and power. As the man touched down between Jathen and Ass’shiri, the wings shattered into a cloud of dark mist, a spell dispersed. The gray-clad man moved toward Ass’shiri, his boots stirring up little white clouds of dead hana-hiru.
Jathen tried to sit up or speak, but his limbs were dead weights. The man crouched and checked Ass’shiri’s pulse, then he turned to Jathen. “Seems to me you boys ran into a touch of fun out here.” Caramel Eyes laughed. “And after all that talk about groups being safer.”
It took all of Jathen’s strength to sit up. “Trust me. It was an unintentional separation.”
Ass’shiri stirred, and the knot of concern in Jathen’s stomach loosened. The memory of his premonition burst ominously to the front of his mind—Remember, Jathen. I saved you and Ass’shiri.—but Jathen did his best to replace his concerned surprise with gratitude. “Thank you.” Despite his disquiet regarding their savior, he also silently thanked whatever Child felt the need to deliver his moot butt from being eaten by what was normally a salad component.
“Yes,” Ass’shiri said, sitting up. “Very much appreciated.”
“Glad to be of service.” Still kneeling between them, Caramel Eyes nodded. “I was passing by overhead when I saw the cloud of hana-hiru puff up, and I sensed your panic.”
“Lucky for us,” Jathen murmured. “Remember, Jathen. I’m your friend. I saved you before, you and Ass’shiri, but now, it is I who need your help.”
“Very lucky.” The man eyed them speculatively. “Though it’d be terribly irresponsible of me not to inquire as to what set of circumstances brings the pair of you alone so far down past the Natkz.”
“So we are below the falls.” Ass’shiri tapped Jathen with his foot. “Told you.”
“I told you,” Jathen said. “And you told me it was impossible.”
“Well, it should be.” Ass’shiri shook his head. “I can’t figure out how we’d have survived going over the falls.”
“Hatori’s master-charm maybe?” Jathen suggested, holding up his watch. “It saved me from a charm-engine explosion.”
“Maybe. Though it ruddy well didn’t do anything against those hostile Red-inspired flora. And that doesn’t explain how we’re several hundred bounds farther south than we have any right to be.”
“So I can gather,” their new friend inquired, “that you two are unaware of how you got here?”
“No clue,” Ass’shiri supplied. “Though now I have to ask what a Gray’s doing in the middle of the Furōrin-Iki.”
The man smiled and pulled his coat aside, revealing a fancy belt decked with pockets and pouches. An intriguing spark of a few metal charms and larger gadgetry caught Jathen’s eye before the Clansman produced a few small jars from one of his many compartments. “Apothecary,” he explained, holding up the green-filled glass tubes. “This is one of my many jobs amid the Gray Order. There are quite a few useful species that grow only in the deep, dark parts of the Furōrin-Iki. This is merely one of my annual runs to find and cultivate what I can.”
Caramel Eyes returned the tubes to his pouch. “Forgive my rudeness, however. I am Mikkal Lan’chi.”
“Jathen.”
Ass’shiri gave his name then whistled appreciatively. “Lan’chi? You’re a Mannachi boy, then?”
“Just by blood.” Mikkal laughed. “I’m a respectable bastard and rather proud of it, given it’s allowed me to do as I please and not have to fuss over such things as responsibility and respectability. And look, I’ve got my own career and everything, and I can pleasantly say it was all my own doing.”
“The complete opposite of all Clan social order. I might be forced to like you, Lan’chi.” Ass’shiri beamed then gained his feet.
Mikkal shrugged. “I never make any apologies for the choices I’ve made for myself. If there’s one thing I was taught, it was to be comfortable with who and what I am. A great gift given to me by a great man, and one I feel a need to preach when I can.” He winked. “And now that we’ve gotten the un-pleasantries of distrust out of the way, may I assume you’d accept some help back to the road?”
“If it’s not too much trouble,” Jathen said.
Mikkal nodded. “If the effects of the hana-hiru have passed, I hope you boys don’t mind walking for a bit. I’m afraid I burned up a good amount of reserve energy with my little light show, but fire really is the only effective attack against the hana-hiru. It will take me a bit to absorb enough energy to slide more than just myself along the Veil.”
Ass’shiri said, “Nah, I’m recovered enough to not mind a little more marching. Are you up for it, Jath?”
“I’m fine.” Jathen grinned, feeling considerably stronger. He was glad to be alive and even happier to be getting back to the others.
“Good.” The Gray chuckled and helped Jathen to his feet.
As they began to make their way out of the charred clearing, Jathen mustered his nerve and asked, “The wings… how did you do that?”
Mikkal glanced over at him. “You are what the Tazu call a moot, are you not?”
The ember in Jathen’s chest flickered. “Yeah.”
“How’d you know?” Ass’shiri sounded affronted on Jathen’s behalf.
“The eyes,” Mikkal said. “I noticed when I first met you, remember? I made mention that you were more than you seemed?”
“Yeah,” Jathen responded, tamping down his irritation. “But what has that got to do with the wings?”
“Well, I can assume you are asking about them because you were hatched and would prefer to be flying. So you wish to know if it’s something you might obtain, correct?”
Surprised the man had guessed his thoughts, Jathen blurted, “Yeah.”
“I hate to tell you, but the wings are created as part of using Ability. One needs to be an energy manipulative Talent in order to manage that type of high magic.”
“All right, but how?”
Mikkal had a rich, tenor laugh. “Ah, you want the technical terms, is it? A structural mind we have here, then. Very well. What do you know about Energy Manipulators?”
“Highest level of Ability, most are usually energy empathic as well.”
“All are energy empathic, actually. You need to be able to see the energy in the first place in order to find it. Go on.”
“Right. Um, they can manipulate energy to fuel magic?”
Mikkal laughed again as they lumbered over a scattering of fist-sized rocks lodged in the moss. “That’s the essence of it and the extent of most people’s knowledge, I’m afraid, but not the fullness of it. To be a true mage is to be able to tap into the energy web that is reality. Think of a giant field of constantly moving molecules that release tons of energy in their movements. We harness that movement, that vibrational energy, to fuel what we do.”
Jathen felt a glimmer of understanding. “Like the geothermal processor-charms in the big cities. They take the movement of the earth and magma, as well as the heat, and convert it into electric power.”
“Exactly.” Mikkal raised his eyebrows, seemingly impressed. “A good equation, young man. Indeed, many mages find they prefer to absorb one element’s vibration over another.”
“So the wings take air energy to be made?”
“No, no, the source of the energy is just that, the source. It has little to do with how the power is reformed.”
“Yep,” Ass’shiri added. “Though if you are going to create a building, making it from earth’s vibrational energy would be easier to manifest than trying to mold it from air or fire.”
Mikkal nodded. “That is the whole balance: absorption and manifestation. One takes in energy in order to reform it.”
“So to make wings, I’d have to be able to absorb… be an Energy Manipulator.” Jathen kicked at a rock.