The Lost Rainforest #2

by Eliot Schrefer

  Surprise, Mez would tell him again. Don’t ever waste surprise.

  Whipping his flames even higher, Gogi drops from the branch right into the midst of the ants.

  He wishes he could see himself in that moment: the form of a monkey, arms and tail out wide and teeth bared, covered in hot orange flame. He makes the loudest capuchin scream he can. Capuchins aren’t famously intimidating or anything, but he figures being covered in fire should heighten the effect.

  While ants crisp and char beneath Gogi, the iguana turns and bolts from the area. It’s worked! Mist, and now the iguana, have fled before him!

  The Ant Queen isn’t as easily cowed. The ground shudders as she brings her massive bulk to its feet and stomps toward Gogi, her mandibles gnashing. He tries to summon more fire to hurl at her, but feels only a wrenching in his spine as his ears make a few sparkles. Covering his body in flames seems to have tapped him out.

  Gogi hops left, then hops right. There’s so much smoke—it’s really hard to make out much of anything anymore. The smoke is an unexpected problem with this plan. That and being all intimidation and no actual attack power.

  The Ant Queen’s face is suddenly right in front of his. Black eyes, framed in her heart-shaped crimson skull, shine into Gogi’s eyes. Words appear in his mind. It is time we had a conversation, Gogi the capuchin.

  Gogi commands his limbs to run, but they won’t move. He tries to scream, but no words come out. The fire is gone, the smoke is gone, the ants are gone, Caldera is gone.

  He and the Ant Queen are floating in a void, motionless, each staring into the other’s eyes. Mez told him this happened to her once, when she confronted the Ant Queen in the depths of the ziggurat, and now it’s happening to Gogi.

  He tries sending his thoughts to her. What do you want, Ant Queen?

  Her head doesn’t move as she beams thoughts back to him. Do you even know my name?

  No, and it doesn’t matter, Gogi says, hoping his thoughts come across the void as being defiant, not terrified. Hmm, do thoughts have a tone?

  Pay attention, monkey. My name does matter. You are spending all your energy trying to “save” Caldera from an enemy whose name you haven’t even bothered to learn. Does that not strike you as odd? I know your name, Gogi, Twelfth of the Capuchins.

  We don’t need to know yours. We just need to know what you’re trying to do.

  I am Narelia. Even Auriel showed enough respect to learn my name.

  Okay. “Narelia.” Fine.

  Respect me, capuchin.

  Gogi would shake his head if he could. If respect is so important to the Ant Queen, then that’s precisely what he won’t give her. No respect for you. Release me.

  I will not. Not while I have you in my grasp. Time has slowed. I could stop it entirely, if I chose. It’s just you and I, for as long as we need.

  He’s got to figure out a way to make her release him.

  I will not release you, the Ant Queen repeats.

  He also has to figure out a way to keep her out of his thoughts.

  You will not keep me out of your thoughts, the Ant Queen says.

  Hmm. He thinks of monkey things. Farts. Hairy butts.

  Do you think a little monkey anatomy is enough to chase me off?

  He has no idea what she just said, but hopefully whatever “anatomy” is will chase her off. Try as he may to keep his mind on gross monkey things, his thoughts return to Mez, Chumba, and Lima, somewhere out there fighting against that fearsome harpy eagle.

  When his thoughts go to his friends in jeopardy, the Ant Queen’s attention on him seems to double. Though his body stays distant and formless, Gogi feels like he’s sweating.

  Listen to me, Gogi. I can offer you power beyond anything a number twelve—or even a number one like your admired Ravanna—can dream of.

  How does she know his rank? She must be sifting through his mind. If he doesn’t agree to her demands, is she going to keep him trapped in this limbo forever? Until he goes crazy, and only then will she bring him back into ordinary time, useless to help his friends because he’s too busy talking to the voices in his head? He’ll, what, spend the rest of his days picking through his belly button lint?

  Maybe that’s precisely what I’ll do, the Ant Queen says.

  That’s when Gogi hears the caw.

  How is there anyone else here? It’s a void; the whole point is that there’s no one else around. This is Gogi’s first void, admittedly, but even he knows that already.

  The Ant Queen can’t break her gaze with Gogi any more than he can break his with her, it seems. Though he senses surprise from her, she doesn’t move her focus. Gogi watches from the edge of his vision as a red shape appears, getting larger and larger, until it’s flapping there in the void, right between them.

  It’s Sky!

  Is that you? Gogi asks the macaw in his thoughts.

  Yes it is, Gogi, Sky replies in Gogi’s head, before turning to face in the other direction. And hello, Narelia.

  Sky floats in midair, taking in the two of them. He can move, even though the Ant Queen and Gogi can’t. Gogi’s mind races. Sky’s divination magic seems to have allowed him to access this private melding of minds. Does this mean that Sky is there with them at the mountaintop? Most important, is Gogi witnessing Sky saving the day . . . or betraying them all?

  What’s happening, Sky? Gogi asks.

  But Sky ignores him, facing the Ant Queen instead. His voice is labored over his wing beats. Your plan, the one I heard about a year ago from Auriel, is finally working.

  Yes, Narelia says. Have you reconsidered my offer?

  The eclipse is nearly here, Sky responds. You hope to use the new influx of magical power?

  The Ant Queen pauses a moment before responding. Once, long before there were birds and monkeys here, this rainforest was quiet. The only living things were ants and plants. It was a serene era. No bloodshed, no need for conflict. The rainforest was calm. My horde will eliminate all animal life, and the rainforest can renew, going back to the serenity it once had.

  When there weren’t animals like the two-legs, going around imprisoning you, Gogi adds. This is actually revenge, isn’t it?

  If you want to think about it that way, fine. I was once imprisoned by the two-legs, it’s true. But you know nothing of the peace this rainforest had in its beginning, thousands of years ago. Do not pretend to judge me.

  The lunar eclipse is moments away, Sky says. With the lens, the magic of Caldera could be redistributed to the ants. Then your victory would be assured.

  The Ant Queen’s eyes light up. Sky has figured out exactly what she has in mind.

  Gogi can sense Sky’s wing beats slowing. It’s not like he’s a hummingbird—keeping stationary in midair must be exhausting. The parrot whirls, taking in the Ant Queen, then Gogi. The Ant Queen, then Gogi.

  Tell me you have brought the lens, Sky, the Ant Queen says. Give it to me, and in return I will grant you infinite power. You will never be that abandoned third hatchling, not ever again.

  That’s when, talons stretched out and beak open in rage, Sky goes right for her eyes.

  THE MOMENT SKY’S talons come in contact with the Ant Queen, the jungle swoops back, the ant armies swoop back, the iguana swoops back. She—Narelia—has broken the connection.

  A year ago, Mez described her conversation in the Ant Queen’s void as existing in a split second of time, but things have clearly been happening in the real world while Gogi was speaking to her. His eyes are completely covered in ants, for one thing. It’s like he’s sleeping under a blanket of living, thrashing creatures. They behave like water, their interlocking bodies blocking out the moon, moving across him in waves and eddies. Gogi scrunches his eyes shut.

  This is how I’m going to die. The queen will have them all bite him at once. It’s surprising that she hasn’t made it happen yet. Maybe she was distracted by talking to him.

  Maybe the ants have carried his body far away. Maybe they’ve dragged him dee
p into enemy lines. There’s only one way to find out—and only one way to survive.

  Girding what’s left of his magical energy, Gogi lights up his skin and sends the flame outward.

  The puff of fire incinerates the nearest ants, filling Gogi’s nostrils with acrid smoke and a tangy smell. He opens his eyes and staggers to all fours.

  He’s in the middle of the ant army—the queen’s healthy forces. There’s a patch of dead ant bodies around him, but beyond that are layers and layers of live, writhing ants, their meaty jaws snapping.

  Gogi spins. The ants surround him. For a while he can give out more puffballs of fire to incinerate the ones that approach, but there’s no way his magic will be enough to take down all these enemies.

  Amid the toasted bits under his feet, Gogi sees withered fungus pods. Maybe there’s enough fungus remaining that it could reinfect the queen’s horde, but it won’t take effect until long after his friends’ fate has been sealed.

  They’ve failed.

  It’s not just ants in the clearing. Here, too, are the Ant Queen and Sky. She faces upward, forelegs thrashing in the air as she lunges and snaps, trying to snag the macaw, who harries her again and again. Sky’s powers are like Lima’s, better for support than direct combat, but he’s still trying valiantly to stall her. If she manages to snag him, he’ll immediately be pierced, but he’s doing a good job of dodging and weaving in the air, feathers cascading from him as her sharp legs narrowly miss the meat of his body. Sky surely can’t hope to do any damage to their giant armored foe, but here he is, risking his life to distract the queen, to buy them time—but for what?

  Gogi wraps his arms tight around himself, against a sudden wind that comes up.

  Wait—a sudden wind? Gogi pivots to see where it’s coming from . . . and finds a tiny little yellow frog hovering in the air over the ant armies.

  “Rumi!” Gogi shouts, heedless that he might be alerting the queen to his own presence. “I’m over here!”

  Once, back when they were fighting the Ant Queen deep under the ziggurat, Gogi combined his fire with Rumi’s wind power to create a flaming tornado. Maybe Rumi has a similar plan now. The little frog doesn’t look up at Gogi, since the wind coming from his mouth is what’s lifting him into the air, and he needs to keep that aimed downward. But he scoot-hovers in Gogi’s direction. Once Rumi’s close enough, Gogi plucks him from the air.

  “You guys made it back!” Gogi says. “Quick, we have to help Sky!”

  “The lunar eclipse,” Rumi gasps, “the lens . . .”

  Gogi glances up. Sure enough, the shadow has nearly crossed the moon, bathing it in orange, only the tiniest sliver of white light remaining.

  An eclipse, the event that shuffled the magic of Caldera, and gave him and his friends their powers, is about to happen again. Part of Gogi wishes everything would pause so that he could watch. He was zero years old the first time—it’s hard to notice much when you’re no age at all.

  But then he hears a terrified caw, and sees that the Ant Queen has managed to give Sky a glancing blow with one of her forelegs, batting him out of the air. Red and white feathers fly up as Sky scrambles away. But scrambling is not an easy thing for a parrot to do, and there’s no chance he’ll get back into the air before the queen’s jagged mandibles have sliced him in two.

  Unless Gogi helps. He readies a ball of flame and releases it. It soars past the Ant Queen’s antennae but distracts her for long enough to give Sky a chance to dodge her next attack.

  As Gogi runs toward Sky, he shouts to Rumi: “The lens! Where is the lens?”

  A yellow blip as Rumi hops to the top of Gogi’s shoulder. “Sky couldn’t risk carrying it right to the Ant Queen, but he knew he had to come rescue you—so he left the lens with Mez and Chumba and Lima. They’re bringing it.”

  “Mez and Chumba and Lima?” Gogi cries. “They’re alive?”

  “Yes! More fire, Gogi!”

  Gogi sends out another fireball. It bursts over the Ant Queen’s head, doing little damage but calling her attention back. The Ant Queen whirls from Sky and turns her focus to Gogi instead. She must be directing her minions to attack; the ants surge up Gogi’s legs, but he can’t release another blast of protective flame from his fur, not if Rumi is right on him.

  “Hovering!” Rumi says from somewhere over Gogi’s head. It’s like his friend read his thoughts exactly and got out of the way of danger. Rumi is one smart frog.

  Gogi sets out another burst of heat to crisp the ants that are climbing him, even as he prepares a third fireball. There’s so much to focus on, with the ant hordes and their queen, and that awful iguana and harpy eagle somewhere within the surrounding jungle, that his mind is firing everywhere all at once. But he manages to ask Rumi, even as he launches fireball after fireball, “Are Mez and Lima and Chumba okay?”

  “They were fleeing . . . from a harpy eagle.”

  “So the lens . . . ,” Gogi says, breathless from the exertion of channeling so much magic.

  “We got it, Gogi! Mez is bringing it.”

  Gogi can’t afford to look, but he hears the cries of the harpy eagle behind him, and breaking branches. No sound from Mez, but that’s to be expected—she’s virtually silent in combat.

  The Ant Queen’s attention is drawn to the commotion. While Sky staggers to his claws and out of the way, Gogi risks a look back.

  Under the tiny sliver of moon, Mez and Chumba—blurs of calico fur—are at the far side of the dark clearing, streaking toward them. Only by sending firelight into the area can Gogi see that Mez has something round dangling from her mouth.

  Racing behind her is the harpy eagle, beak snapping on open air. As long as the sisters don’t snag a paw on liana and trip, they should be able to escape it.

  The iguana is another story.

  The massive reptile has stepped in front of the panthers, blocking them from reaching Gogi and Rumi. Its long tongue tastes the air as it prepares to strike. Mez is hurtling right toward the beast, but she can’t slow without falling into the talons of the harpy eagle.

  Gogi prepares a fireball to send in the iguana’s direction. But doing that will mean taking pressure off the Ant Queen, allowing her to redouble her attacks on Sky.

  Gogi’s hands waver. Whatever he does, someone will die.

  Mez takes the choice of what to do next out of his hands. She manages to get her head tilted enough, even while sprinting, to fling the round thing—the lens—toward him. “Catch!” Chumba calls from beside her sister.

  Gogi has to wrest his attention from Mez to concentrate on the hurtling disc-shaped object. He reaches, reaches, then—yes—he’s got it. And with his tail, no less.

  He has the lens!

  Okay. Now what?

  Gogi transfers the lens to his hands. It’s clear in the middle, like solid air, and surrounded by a hard and shiny substance that is cold under his fingers. Definitely magical stuff. Gogi turns from the iguana bearing down on Mez to the Ant Queen advancing on Sky. He has a precious window of only a few seconds.

  Above, the earth’s orange shadow continues to slide over the moon. The sliver of remaining light is almost gone.

  Rumi’s voice is right in Gogi’s ear. “The time is now. Remember the magical words, Gogi?”

  He does. Or at least he’s pretty sure he does. Gogi holds the circular lens up in the vague direction of the Ant Queen. She’s leaping and snarling toward Sky, whose wings beat furiously as he struggles to get airborne. “There are two parts, though!” Gogi says, sweat standing out on his brow and dripping into his eyes. “Which one do I say?”

  “You’re going to have to trust me, Gogi,” Rumi says in rapid chirps. “When the moment of greatest eclipse happens, I need you to point the lens toward the center of Caldera, in the direction of the ruined ziggurat. I need you to say the second part of the phrase.”

  “What? The ziggurat is so far away! Why would I do that?” Gogi says. Rumi asking for his blind faith makes Gogi suspicious: from Rumi’s hidin
g the fact that he’s been talking to Sky over the last year, to his plan to have just himself and Sky go to the edge of Caldera and learn whatever they learned in the riddle cave, to Big Rumi’s enigmatic warning that there was more to Rumi’s history than the rest of the companions know . . . all of it tells Gogi that he shouldn’t trust Rumi now.

  But Rumi is one of his closest friends. Rumi’s brainpower figured out their best plan to defeat Auriel. Rumi’s intelligence and wind powers have saved them, time and again. Rumi wouldn’t betray them.

  Right?

  “Now, Gogi!” Rumi cries, eyes to the sky. “The lunar eclipse is now!”

  With the moon darkening to blood red, Gogi loses what time he had left. He makes his choice. He holds the lens out in the darkness and prepares to speak.

  SWEATY FINGERS SHAKING, Gogi turns the lens toward the distant ziggurat ruins. There are shrieks and cries all around him: Sky’s horrible pain-wracked caws; Mez’s hisses, probably at the attacking iguana; Lima’s frantic chirps in the sky above.

  Gogi holds the lens above his head, top pointing toward the eclipsed moon. Then, voice trembling, he calls: “Pour sun into night, and create life.”

  At first, nothing happens. There are only the sounds of combat, strangely distant behind the ringing in Gogi’s ears, and the eerie fire-rimmed dark of the scene before him.

  The earth rumbles somewhere far in the distance. While it does, its shadow retreats from the moon’s face, returning light to the scene.

  The soil begins to glow, more than can be explained by the return of moonlight. It starts from Gogi’s feet and heads toward the far distant ziggurat. It’s like the soil is full of glowworms; it’s still brown-black under the night sky, but even so it’s illuminated like some mushrooms are at night. The glowing line cuts a wide path through the jungle.

  Trees along the luminous path shake and shudder; then the nearest one pitches to the side. Out from behind it comes a booming voice. Even though Gogi is certain he’s never heard this voice before, he can recognize it all the same. He struggles to understand what he’s hearing.