Sky City (The Rise of an Orphan)

by RD Hale

  I tap my holowatch to activate the satnav, but it does not respond and the forest of ruins which was earlier inscrutable is now filled with the dread of being eaten alive. Placing hand in trouser pocket, I roll the pebble between fingers and they tingle as I try to calculate the direction to the van.

  'The ruin sits on higher ground above the cave system and if we can find our way around we should reach the stream. It might be difficult though, given the tr...'

  Trailing off, I gaze through midges swarming above the lake as eyes are drawn to a swirling green haze which instils a feeling of incompleteness. Surrounding voices fade to silence and I cannot explain how or why, but there is an important purpose to this abstract method of communication. Something is lost and desperate to be reunited with goodness knows what, appealing to my sense of duty.

  Numbed hands are compelled to remove these burdensome boots and I splash into water, front-crawling towards light to offer assistance. With every stroke gratitude is conveyed and upon arrival the aurora has a warmth which seeps through my skin, reigniting my metabolism.

  Green light continues to a blurry shape on the lake bed distorted by negligible waves. Inhaling a deep breath I dive to rescue this unfortunate object. As I descend blurry eyes strain to see through sediment and eardrums pop but I have an obligation to brave discomfort.

  My hand unsettles silt but I sift through the dirt cloud and prick my finger on something sharp, immediately pulling away. On my second attempt I grab a metallic object and swim towards the surface but the extra weight proves to be a hindrance as oxygen supplies dwindle.

  Kicking hard, I strain blood vessels in my temples and refuse to let go as my legs flag but soon the pressure is released. Waves splash on cheeks and I roll over with the object on my chest to swim one-handed, swallowing dirty mouthfuls as I go. Near the shore I plant my feet and grimace as sharp pebbles dig through my socks.

  'Guys, I have something,' I yell, reaching the shore and Killow comes over to examine the indebted object as I squeeze into wet boots but everyone stares as though I have gone crazy. Weirdoes.

  'Looks like a piece of junk. Dunno why you went to the effort.' Killow flares a nostril.

  'No, it must be working. Why else was it giving off the light in the water?'

  'Arturo, there was no light,' Bex shows palms to the girls as though seeking agreement.

  'Of course there was a light. How do you think I found the thing? You lot need glasses. I'm gonna take it home. Once it's dried out I'm gonna test it.'

  'Okay, clever clogs. Please tell me how we are going to find our way back to the van?' Bex demands.

  'Simple, I can use the satnav on my w... Uh-oh.'

  'What do you mean - uh-oh?' Mila digs bent wrists into hips.

  'I forgot to mention it's not working, must be the water. Just needs to dry out.'

  'Great, looks like we're going to be eaten while we sleep in the woods.'

  'Mila, no-one is going to be eaten.'

  'Oh, cause that couldn't possibly happen. I mean we haven't come across anything that wanted to eat us. Arturo, you're an idiot!'

  'Come on, I'm pretty sure we need to go in this direction. Just head for the stream and follow it until we reach the place where we originally met it, then we'll be fine.'

  'W-what's that? Another frog person!' Sylvie shrieks.

  A webbed hand pokes from a bush so I cautiously approach to gain a better view of a slimy creature of my size sprawled motionless. Brownish-green flesh has hints of blue encircling warts and there is no sign of injury, but the overpowering stench and protruding tongue are enough to confirm death so I kick its blubbery hide.

  The gang, who are huddled behind me, gasp as unsightly warts pulsate and one by one tiny arms poke out, then miniature versions of the creature crawl from punctured skin. The lads do not waste another second and delight in stamping on hatchlings, bursting them like bubble wrap as they crawl towards the shore.

  'That is the most disgusting thing I have ever seen,' Sylvie mumbles.

  Chapter Twelve

  Hidden Reality?

  On high monster alert we head through the gradually sloping forest in the rough direction of the ruins as the lads deny the pervading sense of fear. The group are further unsettled by the unfamiliar animal noises, shafts of burning sunlight and contrasting breeze which aggravates our damp flesh. Every rustling leaf provokes a mild squeal or partially restrained jump, followed by: 'I wasn't scared. You were scared!'

  A thorn scrapes my thumb which throbs in response but we have more terrifying concerns and although my head feels fuzzy, the humming device in my pocket insists everything will be alright. It will guide us.

  'Let's be grateful we're still in one piece. When something tries to eat you, it should put things into perspective! We sh... Hang on a sec...'

  Movement interrupts my lecture and snapping branches draw my eyes to a human-shaped figure taking huge strides then silently vanishing. Our nightmare may not have concluded and some walking equivalent of the killer frog people could be prowling on dry land but I am set to fight for survival.

  'Eeek! What was that?' Emmi shrieks.

  'Probably just a bigfoot.' Oscar is totally unfazed but everyone else looks set to burst into tears.

  'A b-b-big...' Emmi splutters.

  'Don't worry, they're supposed to be plant eaters from what I've read,' Oscar replies, the role of stammerer suddenly reversed.

  'So they don’t eat people, just like wolves? You lads read some utter crap online,' Bex asks.

  'We're totally gonna be eaten aren't we? These woods aren't letting us out,' Sylvie whimpers.

  'Don't worry, the indestructible Arturo has volunteered himself to be first in line. He can demonstrate his amazing powers while the rest of us make a run for it,' Mila remarks.

  'They've got a natural fear of humans. D-don't they, Arturo?' Oscar says.

  'They've got a natural fear of Mila, that thing one took one glance and ran a mile! In all seriousness a bigfoot is unlikely to attack unless startled so stay calm and stick together.' I mask my lingering concern.

  Our only option is to continue with the sense of being watched, occasionally hearing the crunch of a possible footstep, only to be met by eerie motionlessness whenever we turn.

  Suddenly everything goes black and silent and I stumble over as knees buckle, regaining balance and breathing heavily. When vision is restored I hear a tinkling sound and a glitter trail draws my gaze to a diminutive girl fleeting through this ameliorated forest so I jog to catch glimpses of transparent wings.

  'Arturo, are you trying to get us lost again?' a voice asks but I ignore the question to maintain the chase. The glitter trail ends at a clearing and she is proving tantalisingly difficult to track; her flightpath hidden by squirming plants and optical illusions in a bizarre mergence of night and day. The stark disparity of pink and green biomass and asphyxiating shadow dazzles and every time I spot her, she vanishes.

  'Where's she gone?'

  'What do you mean - she? Do you have any idea where we are?'

  Disregarding the question I scuttle around, looking for any trace of her amongst a throng of trees in shades of crimson, mustard and charcoal. Ferns and nettles whip my face and blue-leaved vines thrash like an organic security system; hissing in an attempt to perturb my search but I must speak to her.

  'We're definitely lost this time. This is what happens when you follow a madman...' a vague voice says.

  A golden streak enters a hollow trunk and I approach to politely ask directions, hoping she does not perceive a monster. Lying flat I peer at the trembling young lady cornered inside, feeling guilty to have pursued her in such a manner but she will soon understand - faeries are smart. Tiny flowers are tied into wild hair, she is draped in a dress woven from plant fibres and her wings have settled, revealing intricate patterns as she emanates an aura of stars.

  'D-don't hurt me.' Her squeaking voice invokes feelings of guilt.

  'I won't hurt you. I just
need your help. I'm lost.'

  'You promise not to eat me?'

  'I promise.'

  'Please step back. Way back,' the faerie instructs and as I take many reassuring steps back she emerges from her hiding hole with a cautious smile. Exorbitant emerald eyes blink as she flutters back and forth and I recall these pretty anthropoids have powers, which begs the question of why she was scared when she could have easily transmogrified me into a slug. Maybe they have laws against that sort of thing. 'Where do you need to go?'

  'I've lost my van. It was at a clearing further upstream. A few miles from here.'

  'What's a van?'

  'A big, rusty rectangle with wheels. We drove it here.'

  'I haven't seen it, but maybe my friends have. I can take you but I require your full consent. Now is the time to say if you have a history of allergies to faerie dust, pixie dust or magic potions, or if you are concerned about long term ill effects as a result of contamination. If any of the above applies or if you lack belief in faeries, I cannot help as I can only use my powers to help believers. Are you willing to allow me to help you?'

  'Y-yes.'

  The faerie waves her arms and glittery specks swell into fiery globules, tickling flesh as trees and mushrooms shoot upwards until they are thousands of yards tall. Outgrown by this land of giants I find myself relocated in a jungle of nettle stingers large enough to impale my abdomen as a distant but strangely familiar voice yells: 'Arturo, slow down.'

  A beauteous winged woman descends and sits on a fallen acorn, crossing her legs as huge ants loom with barbarous mandibles.

  'Better get on this before they have you for dinner!'

  She waves her index finger and a leaf swoops out of the tree so I jump onto its waxy surface. Air rushes against my face as we soar past bush orchids and over jagged tree stumps. Python-esque worms wriggle in rotten leaves as we swoop into a hollow between tree roots.

  A muddy tunnel leads us deep underground and we emerge in a secret fountain which is surmounted by a faerie statue clutching a spouting shell. Every droplet resounds with crystal clarity as water streams down iridescent walls. I peer over the edge of the leaf into a golden pool and way, way down I see vague details of a kingdom over-looked by a magical palace.

  'Guys, guys, wake up,' the faerie yells, cupping her hand beside her mouth. 'Stop being lazy, you've been sleeping all day!'

  Shining lights rise to the surface and the water is now brimming with faerie dust. A half-dozen yawning aliforms emerge and one of them swoops out, bearing rigid facial features and theatrical gesticulations; evidently displeased at having her slumber disturbed.

  'What's all the noise about? I was having a nice dream about… er, never mind, it's personal! We were quite happy sleeping.'

  'Yeah, why did you wake us up?' they yelp in unison.

  'We're looking for a big rusty rectangle with wheels. Has anyone seen one?'

  'Just a moment please.'

  Faeries flutter behind the sparkling statue where they squeak like mice. After a few moments the impatient aerialist swoops around to face us, digging a wrist into her waist as she smacks her lips.

  'Maybe we have seen a rusty rectangle with wheels. We don't know what a rusty rectangle with wheels is, but we saw something strange in that direction. Go up and head northeast for maybe an hour. You'll see something weird. Definitely weird.'

  We depart the subterrestrial fountain, surging up the muddy tunnel to re-emerge in the giant realm and I surf airwaves, somehow maintaining my foothold when our pace quickens. As I gawk at the dizzying scale we soar ostensible miles past millions upon millions of enormous tree leaves and every arboreal life-form is now a potential predator. We evade a lethal line-up of bone-crushing beaks, compound eyes and menacing mandibles, before being bedazzled by a butterfly bobbing in the breeze.

  Our flight path is disrupted by a sudden jolt and the leaf crumples as an oversized twig catches my ankles. The momentum sends me tumbling towards the forest floor, but I land on my backside as the leaf catches me mid-fall. The wild ride refuses to let up and with stars circling my head I lurch as a chameleon on a nearby branch flicks its harpoon-like tongue, missing me by inches or in real terms - thous.

  'Sorry, I'll take us on a safer route,' the faerie squeaks.

  Our rapid elevation unveils a purple twilight with intensely shining stars which have emerged even though the sky is not yet fully dark. We race above indistinguishable tree tops as solar wind charges the heavens and greenish moons materialise.

  Our exhilarating peregrination halts and we descend through foliage which drains of colour as shadow spreads, antithetical to wildfire. The faerie vanishes as I become enshrouded in a scentless smoke, spiralling groundwards in total sightlessness and everything fades...

  After an indeterminable period, a whispering voice conveys uneasiness and a hand shakes my shoulder as the base of my skull scrapes against something jagged.

  'Arturo, Arturo.'

  'What happened? He just collapsed.'

  'Maybe one of them did something to him.'

  Meeting Our Cousins

  Stinging slaps on my cheek jolt eyelids into action after an inexplicable sleep on what appears to be a forest floor, judging by the giant fungus outlines in moon-light. Inches from my face, Mila is kneeling with lips sealed and nostrils flaring as if to ask: 'What have you gotten us into now?'

  A sinus pain causes repeated squints during my attempt to fathom how we reached this mysterious location and the others, whom I have not seen in ages, seem even more puzzled. Troubled eyes scan the nocturnal ecosystem as they crouch timidly and whisper about the hopefully illusory figures surrounding us in the mist.

  'Ar-Arturo, are they b-b-b?' Mila gasps.

  A darkened form lurches forth with hints of redness in its fur and I remain in a state of irresoluteness as a glaring primate face comes into view. The features do not match any naturally occurring species with physiology not quite as human as Ahran, but closer to our subfamily than Scoop and roughly triple his size. The spear-wielding sasquatch is wearing a loin cloth and bone necklace with antlers attached to his head. As I scan for the best escape route a tribe of muscular goliaths emerge with their arms poised to throw spears.

  'So much for plant eaters,' Mila mumbles, unable to resist a dig in the presence of death. 'This is all Arturo's fault, yet again.'

  'Foolish humans. Get up. Come!'

  The apex predators of these crazy woods loom with sharpened flints inches from us and our group look like small children in their presence. We cannot run or fight so we just freeze - our trembling limbs and vocal chords emphasizing our relative feebleness. The alpha male's veiny eyes display a furious intelligence as his brow twitches and crumples as though he is working us out. His curled top lip and glinting canine make it abundantly clear one wrong move will end in limb-tearing disaster.

  The sasquatches shove and prod us through the forest, knocking wind out of our ribcages and we are given no opportunity to regain our breath. Our lips flap and gawp as if attempting to speak from horror-stricken faces as we penetrate an aperture in a rock face. Ripples of golden light create the impression the tunnel walls are composed of semi-molten rock.

  Striding with reluctant obedience, we reach a cavern chamber where sasquatches are huddling around a bonfire. Noses and ears are pierced with sharpened bone and some of their mostly bald faces appear to be encrusted with blood. A youngster cradled in its mothers arms wakes up and licks its lips as the tribe stand and whoop, pumping their fists.

  'Stupid humans!'

  An anaconda skeleton lies below wall paintings of animal hunts, amongst huge axes and I gulp at the sight of a human skull on a pole. We are ushered towards flickering flames and imaginary screams accompany thoughts of skin blistering, crackling and peeling as sweat trickles down my spine.

  'On your knees,' a commanding voice booms as deeply as the growl of an earthquake. I refuse to budge until a heavy foot shoves the small of my back with minimal effort. The we
ight alone is sufficient to drop my limp frame onto knees, giving the impression any real exertion would have shattered my skeleton.

  'Stupid humans. You thought you could hunt us, but we hunted you, haha! How does it feel?' the alpha male asks.

  'Hunt you? We don't want to hunt you,' I insist.

  'He lies. They created us so they could hunt. Now it backfire. We are greater. Stupid humans!' the alpha male howls.

  An ear-blasting cacophony resonates through the glowing cavern walls as simian lunatics whoop and cheer and my eyes stretch ever wider, refusing to be averted from flashes of fur and flesh. Part-lit adolescents link arms to dance in celebration of a mealtime which has invoked pleasure in equal measure to horror.

  'We didn't create you! We're just kids who are lost, how could we hunt you?' I plead.

  'How indeed? And humans call us stupid. Stupid humans!' A laugh booms from the alpha male's diaphragm.

  'We don't even have weapons. We didn't even know you were here,' I insist.

  The alpha male slams the base of his spear against smoothened rock and gestures with his free hand. Several elders with wispy beards huddle together, whispering loud enough for us to hear their deliberation and I listen intently, savouring every second that he does not stride in our direction.

  'They don't look like hunters, no weapons. Could pose threat.'

  'Pah, no threat to sasquatch.'

  'They tell truth?'

  'Maybe they tell truth.'

  'Or boy who told truth lied.'

  'Let's ask.'

  The alpha male puffs out his patchy chest, blustering in a contrived manner which diminishes his air of menace as a hint of reason makes him vaguely relatable. Elders drop onto their backsides with sprawled legs bearing crusty soles and the smaller, less hairy sasquatches stand with arms folded. One canine-bearing youngster is wearing spectacles and a camera hangs around his neck. As the spears ease back I notice scattered playing cards, a backpack and a machete lying near their feet.

  'You not come to hunt? That's what humans do. Why you be here?' the alpha male asks.