Root (Book One of The Liminality)

by A. Sparrow

  She shrugged. “We will work something out.”

  “Like … what?”

  “Something! I don’t know. I can’t think about it right now.”

  We stood there, starting across the pit, listening to the wheezing of the Reapers. Karla’s fingernails dug into my palm, but I didn’t mind the pain.

  “This nest … are these the only Reapers we have to worry about?”

  “For this set of tunnels … I believe so,” said Karla. “I hear no others. Do you?”

  “Um. I guess not. But aren’t there other nests?”

  “Yes, but Isobel would be in these tunnels with me. These tunnels are ours. She is my blood. Half-sister, so half-blood, but still she would be here. It is my father’s side that brings the wounded minds. So she will be here.”

  A raspy sound started up in the Reapers’ nest, like suction cups giving away, blubber sticking and unsticking. Karla pulled her hand free.

  “Extinguish your light!”

  I made my root torch go dim. She tiptoed to the end of the tunnel and craned her neck over the rim of the pit. I came up behind her and put my hand on her shoulder to brace her.

  “Hey … uh … not so close,” I whispered.

  A faint, green glow emanated from the pit. I was startled to realize that it was the Reapers’ bodies that were glowing.

  A slender pillar of flesh rose slowly from one of the larger blobs in the center of the pit. Its tip bent towards us like a snorkel and inhaled with a long snort. There was a pause, and then its body began to extend. Knobs and bumps formed along its length.

  Karla leapt back, nearly bowling me over. “It smells us!” she hissed. “Run!”

  Chapter 46: One Ring

  We ran back up-tunnel to the first branching. The Reapers were awakening, first the one then two more and then a bunch in a chain reaction. They roared, bellowed and shrieked like a herd of elephants being murdered by poachers. They did not appreciate being woken up early.

  The tunnel walls shuddered as the first of them hauled itself out of the pit.

  “We’d better keep running,” I said.

  Karla stood with her hand cupping her ear and listened. “It is not coming. Not yet.” She glanced up at a row of occupied pods.

  “These pods,” said Karla. “They have holes.”

  “Yeah that was me,” I said. “I was looking for you and Isobel before.”

  “Really?” she said. “You were looking for Isobel … and me?”

  “Yeah. I checked all these out. She’s not here.”

  She kept her eyes glued to the pods as we moved beneath them.

  “You realize that Isobel does not look much like me?”

  “Oh?”

  “She has … a different mother. She is blonde.”

  “Good to know,” I said. “But she’s definitely not here. It was older people mostly, not much interested in getting away from Reapers.”

  Another thud shook the tunnels, indicating that another Reaper had emerged from the pit. A long moan echoed down the tunnel.

  “Have you been back to the ‘Burg?” she asked.

  “Nah,” I said. “Not since I broke out Lille and Bern.”

  “What do you mean ‘break them out?’”

  “That’s right, you weren’t here. Luther closed off the ‘Burg. Wouldn’t let anyone out. He was punishing them because he caught us trespassing. By the way, why didn’t you tell me he was your grandfather?”

  Karla looked down at the tunnel floor. “It was nothing to be proud of. Arthur is a nasty man.” She glanced up at me. “Where are they now? Bern and Lille?”

  “They have this little cabin in a cave. Bern wasn’t doing so hot. Harvald kind of busted him up.”

  “Take me there. They can help us. The more souls we have looking, the better.”

  ***

  The glow marks that Bern had me blaze my trail with made it pretty easy to find our way back to the cabin. I blinked each one out as we passed to keep anything unfriendly from tracking us.

  Bern and Lille had their ceiling aglow in simulation of the midday sun when we entered their cavern. Bern was laid on a blanket outside the cabin while Lille worked on his leg with what looked like a pair of crochet hooks. His skin was flayed open and his calf muscle peeled back, exposing the bone.

  I cringed at the sight, but Bern acted like someone like he was just getting a massage. There was little blood, and he gave no indication that he was in pain.

  “Oh my goodness!” said Lille. “You found her!” She dropped her tools and rose, slapping her palm over her heart as we approached.

  “Um … we kind of found each other,” I said, hanging back, leery of Bern’s exposure.

  “Lille … for Heaven’s sake … close me up first. Don’t leave my flesh hanging out in front of our friends.”

  Lille knelt back down and flopped Bern’s calf muscle back in place. She sealed up his wound with a pinching motion. Her fingers were smeared with blood, but not nearly as much as one would expect.

  I looked on, both amazed and repulsed.

  “Can you believe it?” said Lille. “The poor man was hobbling around on a fracture all that time?”

  “You do … surgery?”

  “I don’t pretend to be a doctor,” she said. “But here, it’s more like knitting, actually. One just needs to take care not to breach any major vessels. Some capillaries will tear, there’s not much to be done about that. But one nice thing we discovered, is that there are few bacteria here to worry about. Nothing harmful, anyway. So there’s less risk of infection.”

  Bern rose to his feet and winced. “Still aches like a bugger. Stable, though. Doesn’t feel like it’s about to snap with every step.”

  “The darn nerve endings can be hard to calm down,” said Lille. “Oh well, what are you going to do? He-heh! They have a mind of their own.”

  She rushed over to Karla and hugged her tight. Bern strode over and joined the scrum.

  “Any word on your sister?”

  “Not yet,” said Karla. “I suppose it is possible she has not yet entered Root. But I cannot know this for sure. I worry … I have a feeling … that she is already here. Somewhere.”

  There came a distant roar, followed by rumbles much like thunder, but spaced more regularly, like a drum corps for a slow funeral dirge, as the Reapers dispersed from their lair en masse. The sound of them reverberated through the walls of the cavern.

  “Sort of early for Reapers, don’t you think?” said Bern.

  “I can’t stay!” said Karla. “They are coming!” She sprinted down the length of the cavern, disappearing into the darkest recesses. I took off after her.

  “Hang on,” said Lille, grabbing her shoulder bag. “We’re coming with you.”

  ***

  We stayed together, keeping one step ahead of the Reapers, working down one tunnel, through the matrix and up the next. The tunnel system was so massive, I knew there was no way we could reach every pod before the Reapers did, no matter how quickly we worked. Karla probably realized this, but she didn’t let the futility of the task dissuade her.

  We had no choice but to cede one tunnel to a disgusting, belching monster, hanging back in the interspaces and let it do its thing while we hunkered down and kept silent.

  The walls shuddered. Roots twisted and swayed like a forest in a hurricane as the thing slurped and crunched its way along the passage like some grisly street sweeper.

  It was a terrible thing, listening to the shrieks and whimpers from those in the pods, but we were helpless to intervene.

  When the beast had moved on, we poked our heads into the reeking tunnel. It had harvested every pod that had hung there.

  Karla’s face blanched. Nobody said a word. We resumed the hunt for Isobel, fully realizing that it might already be too late to save her.

  It took a while to find a tunnel that actually had pods, but when we did we didn’t dilly-dally. We got together and combined our weaving skills to bust them o
pen without permission or warning from the occupants, rudely dumping them onto the tunnel floor whether they wanted to be free or not.

  Most souls were apathetic or resentful, but one guy was just ecstatic to see us. That made it all worthwhile.

  He was in his thirties and balding, but he had these big, spooky, child-like eyes. He had been struggling to get out of his pod even before we showed up, his knuckles raw from tussling with the roots.

  “And thus, another Weaver is born,” whispered Bern, who still limped badly and leaned heavily on his cane, though he complained not one bit.

  “What’s your name?” asked Lille.

  “Jeffrey.”

  “Keep close, Jeff. You’re a very lucky man to have found us, though you may not realize it just yet.”

  “Oh, I realize it,” he said. “I’ve dreams about this place … nightmares, actually. I know what lurks in these tunnels.”

  “Oh?” said Lille. “Did we happen to appear in any of those dreams?”

  “Actually … him.” Jeff pointed at me. “He was in one of my dreams.”

  “Me?”

  I didn’t ask to hear the details. This place was weird and complicated enough as it was.

  We crossed through the wall to seek another tunnel and found another cavern on the way. This one did not seem to have a maker. It was natural, so to speak, if anything could be considered natural in a place like Root.

  A soft blue glow illuminated a pool of water at its center, its bottom bedded in a pale grit that looked like beach sand. I scooped up a handful and rubbed it between my fingers. There was no way the stuff could be made of roots. I could see the individual grains. Bits of mica made it sparkle.

  “It’s … real,” I said. “Real sand.”

  “Yes,” said Bern. “We run into places like this now and then. Nice to know that roots aren’t necessarily the be all and end all of everything here, eh? That there’s room for actual sand and water in this world.”

  “I’ve seen stone before,” said Lille. “Actual bedrock. No idea how it got here, or how far it pervades.”

  Water dripped from a sheath of dangling roots.

  “Drink up. It’s sweet,” said Lille, catching the drips in her cupped palm.

  Something shiny glittered in the depths of the pool. I plunged my hand into the cool water and retrieved it. It turned out to be a gold wedding band, engraved with a flowery script that I couldn’t decipher.

  “What’s this?” said Bern. “One ring to rule them all?”

  “My precious!” said Lille, contorting her face and voice, her fingers contorted into a claw.

  I handed the ring to Karla. “It’s not an earring … but whatever.”

  “Thanks,” she said, her expression flat and grim. She slid it onto her finger without as much as a smile. We could hear a Reaper lumber into the tunnel we had just left, feasting on the souls we had left strewn below their shredded pods. Jeff went pale. “Please, we need to keep looking,” said Karla.

  We crossed to the other side of the pool, snipping off the sheets of root that blocked our way. Karla reached the tunnel wall first and pressed her ear against it. Satisfied, she sliced through and poked her head out into the lumen.

  “There are pods here!” she said, excited, before sliding through.

  This next tunnel was brighter than most, blotched with mostly static patterns of light that shifted color when you touched them, much like a mood ring.

  Karla wasted no time, ripping through the first pod before anyone could come alongside to help her. A soul crashed down, bringing half of the pod with him.

  “There’s magic here…” said Jeffrey. “… in this world.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it magic,” said Bern. “I think of it more as just another kind of physics.”

  “Oh, let him believe,” said Lille, patting his arm. “What’s the harm?”

  An older man looked up at them from a tangle of shredded roots, closed his eyes and laid back down, completely uninterested in being rescued.

  Karla was already disemboweling the next pod, and I helped her this time, unraveling the bottom, so that the woman inside slid out feet first and landed gracefully on her feet.

  “Way to stick that landing,” said Bern. “Bravo!”

  The freed woman stood before us, her eyes focused and calm. She was sturdily built, freckled on her chest and upper arms with large droopy breasts sporting wide, dark areolas. She was not shy at all about her nakedness.

  “So this is hell?” she said. “Not exactly what I expected.”

  “You’re not dead yet,” muttered Lille.

  A blast of fetid air came rushing through the tunnel.

  “What was that?” said Bern, looking into the darkness. The air went still and then another blast came blowing out.

  “This is not Hell,” said Karla. “Not even close. Do you hear those grumbles? Those are Reapers. Inside of them, that is the real Hell.”

  “Bring it on,” said the woman, folding her arms. She sighed and leaned against the tunnel wall, as if she were waiting at a bus stop.

  “I would think twice, if I were you,” said Lille. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

  “I’ve done enough thinking for a lifetime,” said the woman. “If you want to help someone, help the girl in that nest thing behind mine. The poor thing can’t seem to stop whinging.”

  Karla’s eyes popped wide and she made her way down to the third pod. Its occupant dangled calm and motionless. Another blast of foul wind came rolling up the passage, its stink more intense, and this time it was accompanied by the sound of claws ripping into roots.

  “Karla … uh … I think we’d better be going,” I said.

  “Wait!” said Karla, swirling her finger and loosening a hole in the tightly knitted pod.

  A slender wrist flopped out and dangled free. Delicate, but calloused fingers, curled and uncurled reflexively.

  Karla reached up and touched the small hand.

  “It is her! This is Isobel!”

  Chapter 47: Her Special Place

  A curious mixture of relief and panic replaced the bleak resolve that had gripped Karla from the moment I glimpsed her at the Reapers’ den. I caught her eye and she graced me with a fleeting smile. But there was work to be done.

  She peeled away at the unusually tight knots enclosing her sister while I focused my will on the stalk, unwinding it partially and then snapping it off completely. The entire pod fell to the floor of the tunnel, bounced and split open, unfolding like a flower.

  There, in the center of the bloom, looking back at us with a sullen, sleepy expression, was a girl with honey, blonde hair, waves of it sweeping out, framing her face like a corona. She was curled up in a fetal position, reluctant to move.

  And then suddenly, she sprang up, her stunned surprise snapping into pure rage. She

  “How did you find me? This was my own special place! My private hideaway.”

  “It is not special and it is not only for you,” said Karla, seizing her sister’s hand, and tugging her upwards, like she was trying to get her sibling out of bed and ready for school on a Monday.

  “It was mine. Nobody bothered me here. Until now.” Her fierce eyes panned the faces surrounding her. “Who are all these strange people?”

  “They are my friends. Now come. We need to go.”

  “Go away! You’ve spoiled everything, La.”

  “Oh, get over yourself. You need to come with us.”

  There was a flopping sound, down-tunnel and another blast of wind.

  “What was that?” said Isobel.

  “It is why you need to come.” She dragged her sister out of the pod and hauled her to her feet. “We cannot play around.”

  “Gah! I have no clothes!”

  Lille offered Isobel her shawl, which she promptly wrapped around her waist. Isobel saw her sister’s hand come to rest on my shoulder. Her eyes flicked wide. She looked at me and glared.

  “W
ho is this boy?”

  “He is my friend, James,” said Karla, “Now come.”

  “You have a boyfriend? Does Papa know? Where did you get … did he give you that ring?”

  Karla ignored her, her gaze gone soft. “Shish! Listen!”

  The tunnel went almost completely dark, apart from a faint emerald glow brushing parts of the walls, like the afterglow from a luminescent toy. The wind reversed direction as if something was sucking all the air back the other way.

  “There’s something here,” whispered Bern. “And it’s damn big.”

  “It’s about time,” said the freckled woman, with a wry smile. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

  Chapter 48: The Mother

  The creature lurked in the shadows. Flashes of light revealed only a vague silhouette of its bulk.

  With a twist and a pull, moving his hands like a magician performing a parlor trick with handkerchiefs and coins, Bern turned his cane into a wicked-looking lance with an elaborate, hooked and spiked blade.

  “Are you daft, Bern?” said Lille. “We’re not fighting this beast. We have two … no, three … rank novices with us and no Astrid.”

  “Just in case, dear. Doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”

  “Fight what?” said Isobel. “What is it?” said Isobel. “What’s down there?”

  “Your worst nightmare,” said Karla.

  “Sounds like … an elephant,” said Jeff.

  “Smells like a dead cat,” said Isobel, wrinkling her nose.

  The bulk shifted and caught a bit of the glow from the tunnel walls. Its knobby hide glistened, and riddled with scars and sores.

  “What’s it doing, hanging back like that?” said Bern. “That’s not typical Reaper behavior.”

  “It’s probably confused,” said Lille. “How often does one of these encounter a group of free souls? They’re used to having us packaged up neatly in pods.”

  “Are you saying it’s afraid of us?” I said.

  “What a poor baby,” said Karla. “Come. Let us pass through the wall before it finds its courage.”

  She flattened her hand into a blade and knifed it between the strands forming the tunnel wall. The roots resisted fiercely, shoving her hand back out.

  “Here, let me try.” I grabbed a fistful of roots and squeezed, picturing crackers crumbling. But instead, they stiffened up and refused to yield. Wiry bits poked out and punctured my palm.