by Jeffrey Hall
And as if that voice was preparing him for what he would see when he came to, when he finally pried open his lids he saw Marli standing over him, dabbing a cloth over his brow. Was he dreaming?
“M-Marli,” he forced out. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth. The taste of the mushrooms still lingered in the back of his throat. He felt as though he might be sick if not for her distracting him.
Her hair hung down both sides of her head, and her necklace dangled just over his nose. It reminded him of the nights they’d spent together when she would wrestle him down beneath her, laughing, thinking it a joke, unaware of what she was doing. Ignorant of the way she was subduing the monster inside of him, that creature that never let him be at peace around another. That part that always called him back to the safety of the jungle.
It made waking up not so bad. It made the pain he felt worth it, even though he still wasn’t sure it wasn’t a dream.
“What...what are you doing here?” he forced.
She frowned. “This is where I live. Where else would I be?”
“Perhaps his head was hit harder than we thought?”
Wish turned and saw Moso and Wings sitting upon a bed adjacent to the one he lay upon. He could tell from the cracked windows that they were in the Nest. But why?
Moso read the question in his face before he could even ask it.
You were bleeding pretty badly. I didn’t have the money for a medicine man. This was the only place I could think of.Found the Eclectun hovering about the stones, probably keeping tabs on us. He helped me carry you. He paused for a second, glanced at Marli, and then finished by signing, Sorry.
“What happened?” Wish went to put his hand to his head, but Marli brushed it away.
“You fell, cracked your head open, and now have a threaded wound above your brow that should not be touched.”
“Fell?”
Moso nodded. Think the mushrooms might have gotten the better of you.
Wish remembered the footsteps, the sudden appearance of the stone... “I didn’t fall. Someone hit me. I had the box—”
Wings stood. “You mean you found the box?”
Wish nodded. “It wasn’t there when you found me?”
Moso shook his head.
“We have to go back. There has to be some clues. We have to—” He tried to sit upright and felt dizzy.
“Calm down,” said Marli, taking him by his shoulders. “You’ll go back under if you’re not careful.”
A lone golden fleck fell from the ceiling and landed on the tip of her nose, where it stayed for a long time before fizzling away. Perhaps the mushroom wasn’t done with him yet.
There was nothing there when I found you. Just you passed out beneath a pair of stones, your head split, a pair of worms crawling over your leg all pissed off from you digging in their dirt.
“Who else could know about the boxes?” said Wish. He turned his attention to Wings.
“Who else saw you walk into the city with the first box tucked beneath your arm?” Wings pulled at one of the leaves hanging over his feathers. “Just because you had never heard of them before doesn’t mean there are not countless others who have dedicated their entire lives to finding them. My guess is that someone saw you and has been tracking you ever since.”
That, or perhaps it was those rockturn players looking to seek revenge on him for putting a rut in their field, said Moso.
Wings sucked at the top of his beak. “Whoever it was, it seems the trail has run cold. My master will not be pleased about this.”
The cry of a baby sounded from the corner of the room. Wish hadn’t even noticed the small crib tucked beside the other bed. Marli went to it and picked up his daughter. His eyes met Marli’s, and hers said everything that she would never say.
She is not yours. I don’t care if she looks like you. I don’t care if you keep coming here, but she is not yours. Not yet. Not until you have proven to me that she can be.
And with that look he suddenly remembered the words he’d read on the back of the second box.The words written in Lowman’s tongue. He said them out loud,
“Far beyond the city wall,
In a place where the fruits hang tall,
You will find another piece of song,
In the heart of my striped brother’s throng.”
Moso tilted his head. You hit your head harder than I thought.
“That’s it. That’s the clue that was on the other side of the box. I remembered it. It was in Lowman’s tongue.”
Moso looked to Wings. The Eclectun’s eyes were wide with excitement. “That is one of the original languages of Fangmora.”
“So what does it mean?” His thoughts felt fuzzy. It was a strain to even think, let alone talk.
Where the fruits hang tall... I wonder if it means ash berries? said Moso.
Ash berry trees were humungous growths, with wide, fat trunks and limbs that reached high above the rest of the canopy, offering their black fruits to the birds and other creatures who dared to live so close to the clouds. They were scattered throughout the nearby forest, but he knew of only one place where they grew in congregation.
“The Black Orchard,” said Wish.
“What’s the Black Orchard?” said Wings.
But his question was lost upon the partners. Wish and Moso slumped as they looked at each other, both realizing what the second part of the clue meant at the same time.
“What’s the Black Orchard?” repeated Wings, more sternly this time.
“A collection of ash berry trees near the base of the Crone.It’s named that because of the color the berries turn the floor and trunks when they fall to the ground and are smashed or eaten.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” said Wings.
“It’s not the berries we’re worried about,” said Wish. “It’s what lives there. Streaked ones.”
“My striped brother’s throng...” said Wings, reaching the same realization as them.
Wish nodded.
Moso made a rude gesture with his tail, signaling the despair they both felt.
Streaked ones.
Sentient, primal creatures that inhabited the surrounding forest, hunting in clans for the meat of lesser creatures. Ferocious, savage things whose hunger and ways would never fit into the cage of the rest of civilization. Their villages were spread throughout the Knotted Mountains.They were a menace to the original tribes of Fangmora, and still were to the city’s citizens. If times grew desperate they would sometimes attack caravans on the Star Road, or even go over the city’s walls in search of prey. Wish had encountered plenty in his time in the jungle, always sure to keep quiet or hidden or out of the creatures’ way, except for the one time when they both sought the same thing.
A bonebelly.
A large forest bird with feathers as white as the head of the Crone. Wish had captured one with a snare trap in order to complete a job for some breeder in the city, a job he had taken alone before he met Moso. The ruckus the bird had caused drew the attention of a streaked one hunter.He remembered the look of its golden eyes as it emerged from behind the nearby trees, so still and wide. Those eyes locked on him and didn’t shift or stray. The midnight-black stripes that crowded its face looked like ragged tears in its orange fur, breaks in its brilliant coat made from the fierceness that brimmed inside of it. From a belt made of threaded vine it had drawn a curved sword, a weapon made to emulate the black claws that grew from the tips of its fingers.
There were no noises made, no words exchanged, only the screech of the bird and the just audible pad of the streaked one’s feet as it moved closer. Wish knew its intentions, and he knew there was no hope in running, so he had drawn his machete, scared that if he tried for the short spear on his back the longer movement would give the beast an opening.
And then it pounced, barking a growl that sounded like thunder. He could still remember its face as it leapt over the bird to reach him. How flat its ears were on its head. How its teeth were so stained
and ridden with the flesh of some past meal, still hungry, still insatiable. And then its braided whiskers, flailing to either side of its face like small wings intended to propel him faster and stronger.
Wish had brought up his machete just in time to turn away the creature’s own weapon, but the impact of its leap caused him to slam against a nearby tree.If it weren’t for the tree he would have been on his back and most likely dead, but it had kept him upright, and the jolt of the impact caused him to unexpectedly shoot back forward. There he brought his machete down upon the creature’s sword hand, the totem on his blade flaring, causing it to burn halfway down through the creature’s wrist. It dropped its sword, growling, but did not slow down. It swung its other hand, a massive paw with claws,down onto Wish’s shoulder, rending deep tears into his flesh as he was slammed to the ground. It was luck that saved him then, luck or the creature’s primal fascination with violence.
It stared down in amazement at the sight of its dangling limb, put the barely connected hand to its mouth, and tore the rest of it away. He stuffed the leftover hand into a pouch from his belt, turned around, and walked back into the forest in the same direction it had emerged, perhaps too injured to fight anymore, perhaps satisfied with its collection of meat and seeing no need to get the bonebelly any longer.
And Wish was left behind, out of breath, bleeding, thanking whatever gods were listening that the creature fled. He still had the scars to remind him of that encounter. He was in no hurry to do it again. Wings, on the other hand, seemed exhilarated by the discovery.
“It is said that Tabari befriended one of the tribes.” The Eclectun paced inside the room, sucking at the top of his beak. “What’s a more difficult place to reach than that?”
“Befriend?” said Wish.
“They’re sentient, aren’t they? They can’t be all about meat and bone if you know how to speak their language.”
“Well, we don’t know their language.”
So what are we supposed to do then? Infiltrate their village, scour every last bit of it for the box, grab it, and get the hell out?
Wings clucked his tongue. “You don’t know their language, but I know someone who does. Someone who has spent time amongst the creatures.”
“Someone who is still alive?”
Wings nodded. “Let’s pay him a visit, shall we?”
He went to the door and Moso followed, signing along the way, At least we’re headed back to the jungle.
Wish stood and felt woozy. He steadied himself against the wall. Marli eyed him, bobbing the baby against her chest. “You shouldn’t be going anywhere. You need rest.”
“I need to finish this job.”
She shook her head. “Streaked ones. Climbing beneath the Crone Stones. This work, it’s going to get you killed.”
“What do you care? You’ve got what you wanted from me—at least if I’m dead I won’t be coming around here anymore.”
She pursed her lips. He could tell she wanted to say something else, but whatever it was she kept it to herself.
“This job, Marli. If we do it, if we find a way...” He swallowed. “I’m doing this for her. I’m doing this for you.”
“Then you’re doing it for the wrong reasons,” she whispered.
Wish took one last look at the baby, his daughter, and went to the door. “Take care of her. This city is crumbling by the day. It’s only a matter of time before it breaks for good.”
If she said anything in response, he did not hear, as he was already out the door and entering the main chamber of the Nest, where Risa and a minor priestess lurked about the eggs. He glanced at herbefore he went to meet Wings and Moso by the door.
“Back again?” said Risa. “How many times must you come back before you realize you’ll not find what you’re looking for here?”
“Don’t worry,” said Wish. “This is the last you’ll see of me.” He pushed aside the doors and returned to the streets of Fangmora, his head swimming, his mind wounded, and not just from the stone.
“This is the last you’ll see of me.”
Marli heard him yell it through the thin walls of her chamber, and she was surprised at how much those words affected her.
Did he really mean them? Was that really the last time she would see him?
Good, she told herself. I’ve finally rid myself of him. She should have felt relieved, she should have felt elated, but instead she felt empty.
Though she had told him countless times that he was unwelcome, and countless times more that their time together was nothing more than a way to an end, now that he was finally gone, she realized how little truth was in those words.
Despite her need to fulfill the commands of the Great Bird and bring a child into the world, she had found something in Ati that she hadn’t known she was missing.
Companionship. A confidant. Someone to help tease out the troubles crowding her head, the ones that had taken residence in there long ago, after her parents abandoned her in favor of the streets and what they offered, places that soon became her own home. Ati’s trust in her was something she had never had before, not during her time on the streets as an orphan, nor during the quiet seclusion of her time in the Nest.
Emotions were to be suppressed until the Great Bird’s offspring were hatched and she was brought to paradise.Risa had told her that all they did was cause confusion and build barriers between her and those who meant to take her on the Flight.
But when she was with Ati, and she was pretending to be in love as she was instructed, it was impossible to keep some of those emotions from leaking out. And during those few weeks she was finally exposed to things besides sadness and fear, anxiety and despair, those emotions she’d lived with constantly upon the streets. She felt happiness, wonder, and maybe even real love—emotions she’d never needed to survive, but things she had always sought. Things she wanted to hold onto and never let go.
But those things were gone now, ended as soon as she fled the room at the inn in which they had stayed and returned to the Nest with their child in her belly.
Not gone, she reminded herself. They were just in her room moments ago, and she’d tossed them out like they were garbage just as the Great Bird would have wanted.
But when did the Great Bird and any of its teachings ever make her feel like that?
What have I done?
She felt a sudden tenseness crawl up her spine. She clenched her daughter to her chest and hurried out the door.She rushed past another minor priestess, not even affording her a glance.
“Where are you going?” called the other priestess.
But she did not answer. She entered into the main chamber, hoping to see him at the door, but instead found only Risa.
“What is it, my hatchling?”
Marli ignored her too. She pushed aside the main doors and was welcomed to the harsh twilight of the ending day. A thousand people crowded the Gold Row, and she was reminded of how beautiful the street looked bustling with bodies covered in an abundance of colors, hues often desaturated by the window she viewed it from in her room.
But not one of them was Ati.
She felt Risa come to her side. “Don’t turn to the streets. You called them home once before and what did they ever do for you? Turn to the sky, my hatchling.”
“And what has the sky done for me?”
“It’s given you a roof over your head, a full belly. A child. It’s given you more than the street ever could.”
Her daughter mewed, and she wrapped the blanket tighter around her to break the light wind that swept down the mountains and into the streets. “But it hasn’t given me everything.”
Risa laughed. “You ask for much for someone that came from so little. Be careful, girl, there is no room for greed in the Great Bird’s paradise.”
“Is it greed? Or is it just what anyone would expect?”
Risa’s whiskers twitched. “You’re tired. Your hatchling has kept you up for countless nights. Him coming around here twists your
thoughts. But no longer. Return to your chamber. Rest. With your care passing on last night, you can be at ease. In the morning you will have a clear head again.”
Marli dangled one toe off the step that led into the street. All she needed to do was place it down and she would be gone, back into the unpredictability of the city, once more just another speck of dust waiting to be riled up and kicked along to wherever the boots of the streets wanted to take her.
The thought exhilarated her, but the questions stopped her.
What then? Where would she and her daughter go? The bug markets? The brothels? Back to the Lavender Light? To Ati?
The answer came as the first of the three eggs peered over the edge of the Brute, the westernmost of the Knotted Mountains. There the eggs smoldered with an orange light like torch fire meant to signal her solution.
She inched her toe back over the edge of the stairwell and into the Nest. Risa put her callous claws onto Marli’s hand and removed it from the door. It swung closed with a creak, shutting out the disquieting vibrancy of the street and putting her back into the safe darkness of the inner chamber.
Wish, Moso, and Wings stood before a shanty on the far east side of the city, a district known as the Holes because of the caverns put into the side of Young Nori, the smallest of the Knotted Mountains, due to constant mining for precious stones. The one-room house was built against one of these old holes, a miners’ retreat long abandoned after the vein’s resources went dry, and now converted into a dwelling, perhaps by purchase or perhaps by its current occupant taking advantage of its neglect. The jungle that grew along the mountainside had almost fully reclaimed it, covering the house in an assortment of creepers and moss.Wish might not even have thought it to be a house at all if not for the light emanating from its lone window.
Though they had arrived minutes ago, they lingered outside while Wings spoke. “Let me do the talking. Agra has become a bit rough in his old age. Not to mention a little loose.” Wings pointed to his head. “Try not to take what he has to say too seriously.”
And we’re to trust this man with helping us deal with streaked ones?