Across from me, in the neighbouring hovel, is Silreena.
She waves a translucent white cloth. Below her, brown, glistening creatures growl softly. What in the dark are they?
Never mind that. I guessed the wrong building, and the gap is wider than I dare jump.
Silreena stops waving as she sees me.
She whistles loudly and scurries down the steps. I follow suit. We both race to the bottom, and I am convinced I will beat the old crone.
When I rush out the front door, Silreena is fleeing on a catwalk between the levels. I go up after her, and the stairs in her building are slimy. Did those creatures do this? The secretion reeks of rancid cooking oil.
I run as fast as I can through the network of mud buildings. The awful slime slows my pace.
Eventually I reach the edge of Dunkelherrscht, a sheer cliff wall. Silreena must have gone somewhere, and after a minute of scanning I see it.
The opening is small, a dimple that would normally go unnoticed. The trail of slime goes up to the wall and into the caverns.
Fine. Farther into the darkness I go. The light shines where we cast it.
The tunnels are dark, wet and filthy with slime, the only thing that allows me to navigate the echoing maze.
I hear sobbing and wonder if Silreena has some poor soul captive in her dark lair. I hasten.
I slide down a slope and around a corner to find Silreena’s grubs there to greet me with glowing eyes. Up close, they are less repulsive than I had imagined, but that I will not let that fool me into thinking them docile. They growl but—thank the light—they do not approach.
Behind them, glowing mushrooms illuminate a scene of destruction. Pots, containers and furniture are knocked over and trampled. A barkskin note propped against the glowing wall reads, “Even your corpse should not sustain new life.”
In the corner, Silreena cries, cradling a large fragment of what I think is a red reishi mushroom.
I am about to claim victory, to proclaim revenge over the crops she destroyed in Lichtfall, when she lifts the fragment to her lips and kisses it.
Then another. And another. I faintly see her tears splash on the red-brown skin of the fungus.
I am stuck, my heart barely able to keep pumping.
“You making arrest?” Silreena asks without looking up.
The grubs block my way even if I could move.
My heart aches. I crouch and take slow breaths. I can smell my mother’s burnt crops, and taste the ash of yesteryear.
“Who did this to you?” I whisper after a minute.
“Does it matter?” Silreena replies. “Damage done now.”
The words stab like the daggers of anxiety that ruined my mother’s stomach. “Nobody deserves such cruelty.”
Silreena snorts. “How can Lichtfan say that? Woman in guard—aren’t used to this by now? Can’t imagine men will let you much longer without making you suffer.”
I sag against the side of the tunnel. “You are astute. They do not.”
“Then quiet,” Silreena spits. “Arrest, or let me mourn.”
I watch Silreena conduct a funeral over all she has lost, and am stricken by how I have managed to keep my head in the weeds for so long. The lost mushrooms are as dear to her as peaches.
Silreena could be within a few years of my mother’s age.
I am that same child I once was, having trampled through a great field with no understanding of what lay underfoot.
Shining light can astonish.
“I am sorry, Silreena,” I say at last, when she has lain the last mushroom down. The words come out like I am wrestling limbs out of a thicket. “I am trying to say… I understand better than you might expect.”
“You understand nothing. You came to arrest.”
“I will not arrest you,” I say, my voice catching. “You have lost enough already, and… I did not know. Can you… I want to understand.”
Silreena turns to me, her lined face glowing from the few mushrooms remaining after the slaughter.
“No one listens to Silreena. No one ever wants to hear Silreena.”
I see the echoes of these words etched deep like the scars of invading beetles beneath tree bark. The same cruel words I may have uttered in the past.
Darken me. I have to do better.
“I am listening. I want to hear.”
Silreena stares at me for a long time. The grubs growl, still on edge.
“To what end? Steal Silreena’s story, thoughts? Haven’t you taken enough?”
My mind flees to defend itself. It is who I am, is it not? I feel cornered, hunted. As a boiling reply flits at the end of my tongue, I pull back, and let the energy shudder through me.
I deserve this, and yet, this is not about me.
This is about a gnarled branch growing in the darkest pits of ourselves, planted by hands that want us to blame each other.
“You work hard for your grubs,” I say. The words sound absurd in the open.
“Of course,” she snaps. “They deserve better.”
“You work very hard,” I say, and again feel my words failing me.
“No other option,” Silreena says.
“Yet… you suffer.”
Silreena looks at me, and for a moment, her pain and anger are replaced by bewilderment. “Of course. Silreena is the Strange. What you want? Understand obvious?”
“I thought hard work should be enough… for anyone. Till the soil well enough and sprouts will grow after any storm.”
“Not often sprouts after such destruction,” Silreena says. “Mushrooms, yes… sometimes.”
I close my eyes. Of course.
“My mother… always said to nurture a plant’s roots, which meant understanding where it came from. Please, Silreena. Let me hear your story.”
Silreena pauses. “I am no plant,” she says at last.
“No, I did not suggest—what I meant to say was—”
“Enough,” Silreena says, putting up her hand.
She scans each of my eyes, searching for something only she can see. She whistles, beckoning and calling her grubs away from their guard post.
“Your name?” she asks.
Silreena
Strange. Someone is finally curious for story, but I struggle to find words. Tongue held too long; words slipped off long ago and scurried to dark corner.
Zerianne sits beside, grubs curled in nooks all around.
“They need light,” I say. Words ready to tumble. Yes, story buried, but its foundations in every mutter. Should have known.
“They need light. It not yours to control. Light needs sharing.”
Dangerous. Have been called a heretic for less. But I hurt, and the hurt lessens the more shared. Words make seem like damage can be fixed.
Zerianne nods. Purses lips. Even if she’ll arrest me, call me names, Silreena the Strange has already lost too much. World is flipped: actions have not been enough, and someone wants to listen.
Tongue wags like Lichtfan aspen in wind.
“Mother told story when I was child. Said it was most important for me to remember. Tell others.
“Mother’s great-grandmother knew a time when light was shared between all. Was no wall. Was one land.
“Famine threatened everything. Emergency. Had to prioritize. Decision made to focus light on most fertile land.
“Not all agreed. Were riots. Had to build wall. Temporary, they said. But divisions lasted. Created Lichtfall and Dunkelherrscht.
“Silreena followed after mom and dad. Told history to everyone. In school, got whipped and told no one wants to hear stories. Mom and dad got it much worse.
“Guards went easy on me as child, but… still lost everything. Have nothing. Since then, focus on action instead of talk.”
Zerianne moves mouth. I imagine words struggle on tongue tip, wrestle between what’s heard and what’s believed. I give time, hope for understanding. But
ready for anger.
So familiar with anger.
“But… we are so different,” Zerianne says.
Shake head. “You have light. We have none. That’s all.”
She covers mouth. Words rush out of me to fill gap. Need them as much as they need hearing.
“Lichtfans want to keep high status. No matter what. Rituals put in place stopped riots after wall built. Worst ritual is murder of tunnel-grubs. They mistreated by Lichtfans, then pushed toward Dunkelherrscht. Cruel. Grubs deserve better, so much better. Instead they’re starved, angered. So they come to Dunkelherrscht and attack. All Dunkellians think them cruel beasts, pests to be wiped out in ceremonies. All helps to distract from trampling foot of Lichtfall.”
I give Zerianne more time. Then she says, “No. I do not believe it. I cannot believe it.”
Shrug. “Silreena cannot show you proof. Lichtfans clever, hide evidence. Change tunnel locations. Some of it buried for years, and no one left alive who remembers. But I’ve seen parts, hints. Not surprised you don’t accept. No one has ever believed Silreena the Strange. If it isn’t you arresting, the Dunkellians will kill Silreena for keeping tunnel grubs as pets. Or for talking to you tonight. Down any path, I lose.”
Zerianne quiets for a long time.
“Have you heard enough?” I ask, hating the thick judging air. “Life too short to waste time explaining again. If that all, then Silreena has grubs to care for. Mushrooms to… start again.”
Do not cry. Too much water wasted already. Start again. Mycelium not fully destroyed. Can salvage.
“It is… horrendous,” Zerianne says at last. “I feel so… so helpless. What is there to do against such… deep forces?”
Poor one. Unloaded on her. She’s handling. Letting it root. Taking seriously.
Makes words matter. Makes the hurt less.
Instincts kick in. This is what Silreena does, and always will do: care and nurture the needy.
Push over to her, rest a hand on shoulder. “Start small, bit by bit.”
She looks with glistening eyes. “Start with what?”
Smile. Easy. “By helping Silreena with grubs.”
Zerianne
I know not if any lasting benefit will come from helping Silreena with her grubs. I only know we have to help one another.
We sneak back in through Silreena’s tunnels. The tunnel-grubs take a liking to me, huddling into my side and nearly knocking me over when we hear noises.
Back at the castle base, I request a shift on the heliostats, something routine enough the high commander grants it. Thankfully my foray into Dunkelherrscht did not make me miss a shift, and nothing looks awry.
We devise hand signals for telling Silreena and the grubs when to move through checkpoints. The tunnel-grubs are intelligent, quick studies.
The guards at the checkpoints sneer as I go through. It is perhaps a blessing they stare so much at me rather than the surroundings where Silreena and the grubs slink.
Finally, we cross the threshold into the hallowed light and reach the massive heliostat.
I tag off the guard on duty, then a few minutes later call Silreena out of the bushes. Just as she steps out, another guard emerges yawning from a bunk in the guard tower.
“Hey!” he shouts, snapping alert beside me. “Dunkellian!”
Curses. Why did no one tell me about increased security?
I will not—cannot—use violence.
“Please,” I say, raising my hands. “Stand down, and let us be.”
The man frowns. “You led her here. Do you know how many laws you’ve broken?”
“All too well.”
“I have to arrest you both,” he says, stepping away from me and unsheathing his sabre. He holds it levelly, not threatening, but not wavering either.
He is not a bad man. He is probably one of the good ones, who played no part in the pranks against me.
But there is not enough time to debate, and certainly not at the point of a sword.
I duck and weave, using the proximity of the wall to make it hard for him to swing. I knock him off balance and put him in a headlock.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter.
He drops his sabre and wheezes, “They’re waiting for me at… checkpoint. They will follow up when I… don’t arrive.”
With my foot, I brush his sabre beneath me, then push him away. I snatch the weapon up quickly and lift it warily.
“Then go, if you must,” I say. “Report to the checkpoint. I will not stop you.”
He stares at me, then scans the grubs and Silreena. “What are they?”
“Tunnel-grubs. They need sunlight.”
“I… will be thrown in a cell if I let you be.”
“As I said, do what you must. Go get reinforcements to arrest us, or stay and leave us alone.” I know too well what this will cost if I lose my job and can no longer send mother money for help.
Mother, forgive me.
The man turns and jogs down the hill.
“How much longer do they need?” I call to Silreena who is ushering the tunnel-grubs onto the brightest patch of ground.
“Don’t know,” she says.
The grubs bask in the sun at the base of the heliostat. Their skin undulates and they let out rumbling purrs so loud they echo across the plains below.
I pray I’ve not been misled, as I have been my whole life.
Fissures cascade up and down the length of the grubs’ bodies. They twitch and shudder.
Below, guards gaze at us through spy glasses. They exclaim and rush off. A moment later, they’re armed and heading up the hill.
Darken it all. “They are coming for us, Silreena.”
She nods, crouching near the writhing grubs. After a moment she says, “Can’t move them until they’re done. Will hurt them too much. Look.”
The grubs are writhing, in the thralls of an intense transformation. On some level I know she is right. I respect and understand how much she values their life like the sanctity of a carrot patch. But those values will mean nothing if they catch us.
“They’re going to be killed as soon as the guards get here!” I shout. “Come on, Silreena. Let us go.”
“No.”
“This is insane! If we both get arrested, how does that change anything?”
Silreena sits beside her grubs and glowers at me. “I appreciate all your help. If we do not take care of the small, we have no hope of rectifying the big. This I know.”
Darken it all.
I close my eyes, a few tears streaming down my cheeks. I thought I had prepared myself for all outcomes, but I had not. The full reality of never seeing another spring, never plucking another fresh raspberry with my mother, is as dark as the dungeon that awaits me.
“Zerianne!” Silreena calls suddenly. “Come, need your help!”
Silreena is struggling to keep a grip on the leathery skin of two large grubs each wider than her torso. They twitch so violently that the three she is not holding slide down the mountainside.
“Stop them!” she shouts.
I run and block two with my legs while I reach out and barely grab the third. They are far heavier than I thought, and I gasp from the effort to hold them back.
Their skin is a mottled brown and red. The smell is a mixture of sweat and burnt vegetation. Hard mounds poke out of their body and jab me.
“Silreena, what in the dark… is happening?”
“Complex… Lifecycle,” she wheezes. “Like mushrooms.”
A wet bubble bursts and splashes my neck. One of the grubs has a foot with five digits, each lengthening into claws.
I scramble up and out of the way as they flex and thrash.
Moments later, I gape at four-legged grubs who can now stabilize themselves. The cracks on their skin have formed scales that pulse open and close, flickering light. With limbs, they are three times the size of any Lichtfan or Dunkellian.
A short d
istance away, a group of guards jogs up the mountain toward us.
“Are they done now?” I ask Silreena. “Because they are going to be soon.”
Silreena calls to the grubs but all their eyes are closed, their backs flexed.
“Almost done,” Silreena says. “Must be. Just need to protect… bit longer.”
“Light give me strength.”
I have trained against multiple assailants, but never as many as five.
And I cannot use violence against them. I will not.
“Stop!” I shout at the approaching group. “Leave us be!”
“You’re under arrest!” shouts the leading square-jawed captain.
I unsheathe my sabre and run down the hill toward them. If I cannot stop them, then I can at least stall them.
I throw my sabre high into the air, which makes them slow and follow with their eyes. The sabre plants into the ground a few metres in front of me, and I stand with my hands raised.
“Take me,” I say, “but you do not want to go near them.”
The guards stare, eyes wide, at the grubs behind me.
The captain is the only one unfazed. “Seize her,” he snaps. “And kill those… lizards.”
I hear bestial roars, and hot light wraps suddenly around me. All the guards shield their eyes, and I turn to see the grubs—the lizards—flying toward me.
They have grown wings longer than any bird I have ever seen. Their bodies pulse with light through the slits of their scales opening and closing as they breathe. When they open their mouths, brilliant beams of light cast out like the sun breaking through cloud cover, and it blinds all the guards.
The captain swings furiously and I dart out of the way, grateful the beams are not shining directly in my eyes, too.
He continues swinging and approaching the lizards, grunting and shouting in determination.
“Stop!” I shout, but he ignores me.
He gets close to one of the lizards, Rov, I think, and his blade knicks the skin before Rov bats him to the ground, knocking him unconscious. I wince.
I do not know what Silreena was thinking. These lizards are nothing like mushrooms.
Hear Me Roar Page 3
