by Marc Secchia
Chardal mounted up behind Shioni. A Yellow Fiuri sat in the front position to direct their dragonfly, and one sat behind them. Both were armed with swords and bows, while Shioni noted the quivers of throwing spears also fastened within easy reaching distance of the Fiuri soldiers. To her surprise, Chardal furtively pressed a dagger into her hand. “Keep this hidden.” She slipped it into her shorts pocket. Iridelle mounted another of the huge dragonflies, seated in third place between three Yellow soldiers. Ashkuriel fluttered up to his place atop the largest Vermilion Dragonfly. He had a large chunk missing out of his lower right wing, Shioni noticed. He raised a clenched fist.
The dazzle of Vermilion Dragonflies shifted impatiently. A loud buzzing cut the morning air as their wings began to vibrate, picking up speed. Just when Shioni thought the sound was about to saw through her ears into the bone, it settled into a steady drone. The dragonflies pressed forward along Sherfiuri Ball’s main thoroughfare. Shioni did not care for how they bulled through the crowds without the slightest care. From Char’s hiss behind her, she judged he felt the same way.
As the guards encircling the entrance waved them on into the outside world–not that they had much choice faced with five speeding dragonflies–Shioni was struck again by Fiuriel’s radiance. Every plant glowed. A great amber crystal depending from what her brain told her was the cavern’s ceiling, added a golden cast to the pollen-clouds drifting lazily above field after vibrant field of different types of flowers. She sneezed at once.
Char clucked irritably and touched her shoulder. The tickle in her nostrils vanished.
She knew exactly what he was thinking. A Fiuri who was allergic to their staple food source, flowers? Absurd. “Thanks, Char.”
“This morning, we’re headed anti-Spinward to Cave Fifteen,” said Char, clearly settling in to his role of travel guide and information provider. “After that–”
“Sixteen,” Shioni interrupted. “I can count.”
“Fifteen. Sixteen shares the same tunnel structure but lies more Sunward. We will arrive in Cave Fifteen by this evening. And a miserable, flowerless hammock of decay it is, too.”
Shioni crossly re-furled her dangling proboscis. Scabby vultures, if her ridiculously long tongue would not try to hit her chest every time she was amazed! It was unlike Char to be so scathing. She expected that from Viridelle, or worse, from Ashkuriel. She hurriedly sorted out the directions in her mind. Right, Moonward was toward the Inner Green Caverns. Sunward was the opposite direction. And she should try not to dwell on whatever a vulture might be.
“Is Sixteen more Sunward than our Seventeen, Char?”
“Listen to your teacher.” The smirk was clear in Chardal’s voice. But he proceeded to tell her more about Fiuriel than she had ever wanted to know. Shioni learned that Fiuriel was one of three moons orbiting a planet called Crysturiel. ‘Moonward’ referred to the moon Turion, which shadowed Fiuriel’s path around furnace-hot Crysturiel. ‘Sunward’ was toward an orange-yellow star called Altair. How Fiuri who feared the surface of their world knew all this was a mystery to her.
The caverns were originally long tunnels dug by Cave-Crawlers. The further action of burrowing insects and several types of powerful, fast-growing fungi made the tunnels grow rapidly in different directions. Char reminded her that the Fiuri had taken to the tunnels to shelter from their enemies. They learned to ward their homes and strengthen the tunnel structures to stop them moving about so much. Still, disasters were common.
And then he said a word which jolted her. “Some Fiuri believe we fled from dragons.”
“Dragons?” Another mysterious echo from her past.
The soldier behind them snapped, “Heresy! Heresy and lies. Shut your nectar-hole, scholar.”
Chardal seemed unabashed. He said, “Sometimes we scholars must deal with these old, disputed legends so that we can educate the ignorant, and separate truth from lies. This Fiuri has amnesia. I need to teach her about Fiuriel. Things even the greenest caterpillar knows.”
“Yellowest,” retorted the soldier.
Shioni pulled her left antenna down to inspect it. Bland, boring white. Yuck. Not even a hint of colour. How could she know about dragons, like a shiver in her bones, but not remember the details? The very word made her imagine magic and fire and great wickedness. Why? She was tired of asking why. She felt homesick; only, she had no idea where home was!
She imagined Ashkuriel’s dragonfly crashing headlong into one of the large, branching crystal outcroppings, but even that thought did not cheer her up.
The White Fiuri pondered the question of ‘home’ as they swept down a new tunnel. To her, it was indistinguishable from the one in which she had been found, but Char seemed to expect excitement around every corner. His green eyes shone and his spiky green hair seemed wilder than usual. The Vermilion Dragonflies were making a terrific speed. Even Shioni, the most ignorant just-out-of-the-cocoon Fiuri, could tell that much. The speed was enough to make her eyes water, especially when they stormed through clouds of pollen or gnats, which splattered against her cheeks and forehead.
They did not pause to renew any magical wards, nor to refresh themselves at the abundant green water bubbles. Chardal passed her a gourd of nectar when she asked for food.
“You’ll see the tunnels beginning to change character, soon,” said Chardal. “Cave Fifteen is known for its medicine production. The plant life is very different to our beautiful Seventeen. Fungi, mushrooms and toadstools. Useful, but very–”
“Smelly,” said the Yellow Fiuri driving their dragonfly, as he yanked on the reins to direct the creature around a tight corner. The tunnel had narrowed, looping about like a snake trying to bite its own tail.
“Pungent,” said Char.
“Rank.”
“Mouldy. Dank. Foetid. Unsavoury,” retorted Char, not to be outdone.
“How do you direct this beast?” asked Shioni.
“We fix plugs into the secondary ear canals,” came the reply. “You’d also fly differently if I steered you by your ears, wouldn’t you?”
Shioni touched her pointy ears, wincing at the thought. “Er … yes.” Then she heard Chardal guffawing behind her. She snapped, “Keep it down back there, pollen-brain!”
By late afternoon, the first whiff of dank, mouldering caves reached Shioni’s nostrils. This was more what she had expected of the underground Fiuri world. They left the outermost wards of Cave Seventeen in their wake as they sped down a long, shadowy tunnel into what Shioni immediately thought of as a new world. Everything changed. Gone were the trees and bushes. In their place, towering forests of mushrooms and fungi rose all around them, and great ridges of luminous fungal growths spanned half the tunnel, in places. The cool air seemed to grow thicker in Shioni’s lungs. The quality of the light was completely different–much softer, stemming from radiant patterns on the mushrooms and from the ever-present crystal outcroppings, although they were much scarcer in these tunnels. Insects multiplied, from swarms of biting gnats to great Dung Beetles the size of Iri and Viri’s house, which rolled their dirt balls along diligently. Shioni wondered if, with those jutting mandibles, a giant beetle could take on one of their Vermilion Dragonflies in battle?
But even here, a few patches of hammock flowers could be found, and it was in one of these that they chose to spend the night.
Chapter 11: Mushrooms for Medicine
UNable to breathe, Shioni wrenched into wakefulness. For a moment she thought the hammock flower was crushing her. She felt as though bands of molten metal were clamped around her ribcage, being slowly squeezed shut by a mad blacksmith. Her throat was swollen. Every shallow breath whistled in her lung-passages. Not enough. Her entire body cried out for air, but there was no air to be had. Gasping, she pawed at the hammock flower.
With a tiny unzipping sound, the flower popped open and dumped Shioni face-first on the toadstool right beneath her.
The trio of Yellow Fiuri guarding their campsite leaped into the air. Swords zinge
d around her. But the target of their ire did nothing but wheeze incoherently.
Shortly, Shioni heard worried Fiuri gathering around her. Viri said, “Chardal, what can we do?”
At a fingertip touch, a tingling entered Shioni’s shoulder and spread into her body like warm, sweet nectar. “Allergies,” said the scholar. “This should help.”
Iri said, “She’s turning blue, Char.” Strong hands turned her over. “I never wanted her to change colour this way.”
“I’ve had a few Hunters report these symptoms when travelling through Fifteen,” Tellira put in. “Usually the pollen-brained pupae just blind themselves amongst Cave Fourteen’s crystals. But a few have reported that the spores in the air give them breathing problems. Char, I’ve never seen it this bad. You need to bubble-shield her with a filter. Quick wings, boy!”
Shioni’s breathing began to settle, but black spots still danced in front of her eyes. She saw a stricken look enter Chardal’s eyes. He said, “I’ve never tried that before. I could kill her.”
“Worse than this? Hurry, Chardal.”
Worse than being killed? Shioni wanted to laugh. Her mouth gaped open like a fish freshly hooked from a mountain river. Dimly, a warning tolled in her mind. Fish? Mountain? River? What words were these, to a Fiuri?
Muttering rapidly, her scholar friend began to wave his fingers, tracing complex symbols in the air. He bit his proboscis in deep concentration. “Filter, filter … how did that go? Come on, Chardal. Fly to the nectar. You remember this. No. A different bubble …”
A faint, familiar shimmering of rainbow colours surrounded her. Shioni’s antennae prickled with an awareness of magic. Chardal kept right on burbling to himself. By degrees, the tightness in her chest eased and with it, her panic began to fade. Was she wrong to feel so ashamed about being frightened? Shioni rubbed her breastbone. She really was better, wasn’t she?
She smiled weakly at her friends. “Thanks, Chardal. Sorry about–”
“Don’t be such a pollen-brain,” said Viridelle, rather sharply. “If you had your own magic, you could learn to manage this as easily as sucking flowers dry.”
“Viri’s on the wobbly nectar. She just cares too much,” Iri teased her sister.
A low growl from Ashkuriel made their smiles freeze on their faces. “Fine,” he said. “We can catch up some flying time now that you’ve woken us all with your hysterics, Shionelle.”
“I do wish a Dung Beetle would roll him up,” Char whispered.
His comment kept Shioni chuckling as the dazzle of Vermilion Dragonflies winged on through Fiuriel’s never-dark sleep time. The dragonflies swooped beneath flaring yellow mushroom caps that spread overhead like the roofs of gigantic buildings. Every filament and edge and stem was outlined in rich, glowing purple lines. Many of the smaller toadstools sported garish blotches of colour, sickly reds and putrescent oranges being the most common. The stench of decay hung so thickly, Shioni imagined that she could lick it out of the air and eat it–not that she’d want to! They passed two enormous beetles tearing into each other with their mandibles and antlers. The Dragonfly-drivers had to swerve smartly to avoid being swatted in the violent duel.
“We’re coming to Harfiuri Ledge,” said Chardal, pointing ahead. “It’s an outpost of these Fiuri. They don’t like strangers passing through their territory, especially not near the medicine factories. They say we pollute their air. Ha! Very likely!”
Ashkuriel did not seem inclined to stop for anyone or anything. Waving his arms as he bellowed his commands, he urged greater speed from his drivers. The Vermilion Dragonflies’ droning grew more intense as they surged through a wide cavern, heading for the dark, lichen-encrusted entrance of a new tunnel. Shioni glanced curiously at the Green Fiuri outpost as they stormed by. Most of the Fiuri here seemed to be darker Greens, but she also saw a number of Reds. Scientists, she realised, probably working on new medicines and new cures. Nobody was smiling or laughing, unlike Cave Seventeen where even the poorest Fiuri children seemed to have a ready smile or a game of pat-the-puffball to play.
Ever onward they droned through the gloomy tunnels, past fields and forests of mushrooms, through a world so far removed from pleasant Cave Seventeen that Shioni felt anxious to the point of nausea. By evening they had passed through but a ‘small slice’ of Fifteen, according to Viri and Char, and were on their way through the connecting tunnels to Cave Fourteen, home of the crystal workers.
Suddenly, Viridelle shouted, “Slow down!”
The drivers hauled at their reins, barking commands to slow the great Vermilion Dragonflies as they approached a mountain of rubble.
A cave-in! Shioni peered past the Yellow Fiuri driver. A vast section of tunnel wall had collapsed inward, avalanching rock and pulverised crystal across a broad plain of lurid pink mushrooms. The trail of destruction continued to the opposite wall, where an equally massive burrow had been excavated.
“Cave-Crawler,” said Viridelle, confirming her suspicions. “Big one. Good thing it passed far from any Fiuri habitation. See here, Shionelle. The plants are dying. They poison everything they touch.”
Shioni tilted her antennae. “Listen, Viri. You can still hear it.”
Viri gaped openly at her. “Pollens and nectars, Shionelle …”
“What’s so amazing about hearing a Cave-Crawler? It sounds like crystal chimes singing …”
Her voice trailed off. Everyone stared at her, tongues unfurled and wings stilled in amazement. Ashkuriel’s expression was especially poisonous. She knew at once that Lord Tazaka would be hearing all about this.
Chardal said, breathlessly, “Shioni, any old Colour can hear a Cave-Crawler digging, or feel it–because they’re as strong as an earthquake when they move. But only Blue Fiuri hear Crawlers singing. It’s magic, you see–an incredibly rare ability. I’d guess at most two or three Azures have ever claimed this power. It is said they could speak to–”
“Shut your nectar-hole, scholar!” snarled Ashkuriel.
Shioni stared at Char, mouthing, ‘Blue?’ He nodded.
Ashkuriel grated, “Lord Tazaka grows impatient, Hunter!”
“Move on,” said Viri. “That Cave-Crawler is long gone.”
Long gone? Then how could she have heard it? Shioni stared down the side-tunnel as they passed by, but there was nothing to be seen in the darkness. Strange to think how Fiuriel was constantly being hollowed out, as though it were a busy underground insect-warren. But there did not seem to be too many natural enemies for the Fiuri, especially when they banded together and used their magic.
Then Shioni saw Viri’s head snap about. “Weapons and shields!” she yelled. “Silverfish!”
A cloud of wasp-like creatures boiled out of the Cave-Crawler’s exit tunnel behind them, swimming through the air with strangely sinuous undulations of their bodies. They fired gooey purple balls toward the caravan as the Vermilion Dragonflies picked up speed, but for the most part their attack splattered harmlessly against Chardal’s shield. The trailing Dragonfly, however, was struck on the tail and vented a terrible, grating shriek.
“Poison,” muttered Char, waving his hands furiously. He tossed a handful of crimson powder into the air.
Shioni sneezed violently. Red peppers?
The Silverfish advance stalled in the cloud of powder, allowing the Vermilion Dragonflies to build up speed. But the silver creatures wriggled frantically. They were so fast! Squealing at a pitch which pained the ears, the Silverfish soon began to overtake Ashkuriel’s caravan, dive-bombing Char’s shield with increasing frequency. Viri and Tellira let fly with arrows, downing several of the creatures, which flew using fins either side of their body and long, plumy tails. They were immediately mobbed and torn to shreds by their fellows. The Yellow Fiuri soldiers flung their throwing spears or loosed arrows at the swarming Silverfish. Purple again splashed Char’s shield, which wavered but did not collapse.
“Hang on, Char,” Shioni encouraged the pale, sweating scholar.
“Faster!” roared Ashkuriel. “That Cave-Crawler let them in!”
Shioni plucked the driver’s bow out of its holster, and pilfered a handful of his arrows. She took aim. Fire! “Got one!” she crowed. “And another!”
She could do this! Without pause for thought, Shioni reloaded and fired directly upward into a knot of Silverfish shadowing them up there. The mass of predators imploded as they ripped into each other, careless of which was the wounded one. Shioni shuddered. By the first pupa, as Viri loved to say, she would not fancy being a Fiuri caught by a pack of these.
“Left, left,” groaned Chardal.
Shioni’s and Viri’s arrows pierced a Silverfish simultaneously.
“That one was mine!” Viridelle howled.
Ignoring her friend, Shioni fired again. “And behind,” she said, aiming carefully past Char and the rearmost Yellow Fiuri. Her arrow brushed his antennae on the way past, smacking right between a Silverfish’s gnashing teeth. Three more shots and she ran out of arrows, but Viri and Tellira had established a rhythm now, wounding or killing Silverfish in the thick of the pack so that the bloodlust overcame them. Soon, they left the squabbling, feeding Silverfish far behind.
“Fine shooting, little Hunter,” said Tellira, saluting Shioni with a wave of his bow.
“Little Hunter?” snorted Viri, clearly as green as her skin with envy. “I can tell you a thing or three about Shionelle! Why, that hopeless pollen-brain–”
The older Hunter’s low growl cut off her complaint as effectively as if he had slapped her in the face with a Glue-Slap plant, Shioni thought. Viri fell immediately to her work, calling out instructions to the Vermilion Dragonfly drivers.
Quietly, Char said, “The sixth Hunter proverb, Shionelle, goes like this: ‘A good Hunter praises a skill. A great Hunter knows when to give praise.’”
“I see.” Shioni asked, “Do you see many Silverfish?”
“No, they’re rare,” said Chardal. “Creatures like Silverfish are one reason our cave wards continue to be so vital. Every Fiuri respects the wards, because without them, we’d all be dead.”
