The Fiuri Realms (Shioni of Sheba Book 5)

by Marc Secchia

  Shioni sipped cautiously from the gourd, not wanting to repeat her mistake the first time she had tried a Hunter drink. The piquant nectar was different to what she remembered. It was deliciously warming and so sweet, it made her breath stick in her throat. She gulped several eager mouthfuls. Suddenly, Shioni’s stomach gave an ominous rumble. It gurgled and turned over as though she had an animal stuck inside.

  “Oh, my …” she squeaked, clutching her abdomen as a pain rapidly blossomed behind her breastbone. A caverns-sized belch ripped out of her. The Vermilion Dragonfly swerved, almost crashing into a wall of vegetation as they flew by. “Viri!” Shioni shouted. “No, no …”

  “I’m going to die laughing,” chortled Viridelle. “It seems to have quite a strong effect on you.”

  “My stomach! Ooh, I feel sick …”

  “What was that, sister?” Iri demanded.

  “Concentrated chingo root,” said her twin. “Very gassy.”

  Shioni hurled the gourd at the Green Hunter, aiming for her nose, but Viri caught the missile deftly, snickering. Her stomach snarled again, a noise that reminded her unaccountably of a large, tawny predator. Covering her mouth was no use. Had she not been tied to the saddle, the resulting eruption would have hurled her off the Dragonfly’s back.

  Viridelle. The little slug! Staring at her stomach in horror, Shioni realised that she could actually see her abdomen swelling up like a balloon. Quickly, she expelled more fruity air. Disgusting!

  “Just wait until she starts on the other end,” said Viridelle. “Shionelle will outfly any Dragonfly. Smelly gas propulsion.”

  “At least my job doesn’t involve shoving my nose into caverns-stink all day long,” Shioni retorted, but immediately felt bad for being so sulky. Her cheeks puffed up as another eruption readied itself in her bowels. That Green Hunter desperately needed another lesson in wrestling!

  Pits and pockets began to appear in the ravine walls. They housed a ghastly array of Banded Eels–great, slithering monsters with toothy grins and bulging orange eyes. The putrid stench of mould and decay hung in the air.

  “What stinks like that?” asked Iri, holding her nose.

  “The Eels,” called Chardal. “We’ll turn soon.”

  “But the smell won’t improve,” said Viridelle, from the lead Dragonfly. “Right, into the tunnels!”

  Abruptly, Shioni’s Dragonfly swung into a tunnel hidden beneath a huge mossy boulder in the ravine-wall. The sponge-tunnels where a soft, squidgy maze that did not improve the longer they spent inside them. Khaki mosses mounded on the walls, interspersed with spreading plates of black fungi that crumbled into tacky bits at the slightest touch. The tunnels deadened any noise, while the slightest touch or puff of air caused dense khaki-green clouds of sticky crud–Shioni could think of no better word to describe it–to billow up, coating the travellers as though they had spent hours slapping mud on each other. She could barely see the Vermilion Dragonfly ahead of them.

  Her allergies would love this!

  The tunnels occasionally widened into dimly-lit caverns infested with the malodorous yet not very aggressive Banded Eels, but for the most part the party buzzed along in silence, following Viridelle’s commands. All the while, the Green Hunter’s chingo root kept Shioni’s digestion working overtime. From the odd whiff that reached her nostrils, Shioni decided she should be grateful that their surroundings stank even more than she did!

  Again and again as the hours passed by in the sponge tunnels, faraway thuds shook the sponge tunnels. Tellira kept glancing at the roof and urging Viri to greater speed. They launched over the edge of a narrow ravine. She could breathe again! Shioni heaved a sigh. This gloop was disgusting, coating her antennae and wings …

  “Rockfall!” howled Tellira.

  Somehow, the slowness of a caverns collapse mesmerised any watching Fiuri. A tumbling mountain of debris came rushing toward them from directly ahead, devastating everything in its path with awesome, indifferent force. Rocks and plants and two immensely long, spindly-legged centipedes avalanched across their path.

  “Down this way!” Viridelle howled, changing direction. The dazzle of Dragonflies plunged into the ravine. Down they raced, chased by a bulging collapse of the walls, the rotten rock cracking and crumbling all around them. “Faster!”

  Shioni gasped. They were coming to the bottom of the ravine. Clouds mushroomed around the Dragonflies’ tails. Viridelle angled them into another screaming turn, forcing her Dragonfly to smash open a way for the others as they bulled blindly through one final layer of sponge. The White Fiuri dashed her eyes clean just in time to see a huge boulder looming out of the dirt. Their Vermilion Dragonfly used its legs to glance itself away, down toward Fiuriel’s core. After a few more minutes of frantic, edge-of-the-wings flying, they burst free into a vast open space. The drivers shouted in concert, encouraging their beasts to their utmost speed.

  KAAAAABOOOM!! The very air shook.

  The Cracks would change again, Shioni realised, looking back to see untold tons of debris slowly cascading away behind them, a flowing khaki river as wide and deep as one of Fiuriel’s tunnels. She realised that there were only four Dragonflies left–one carrying her and Char, one for the Hunters, one carrying three Yellow Fiuri soldiers, and Ashkuriel’s mount.

  One had vanished. Where was Iri?

  Shioni called, “Viri, we have to turn around! Iri’s missing.”

  “Swing back, Hunter,” Ashkuriel ordered.

  Shioni caught an incredulous glance from Viridelle as the Green Hunter issued her orders. This was the brutal Yellow Fiuri leader? Yet, Ashkuriel seemed adamant. Shortly, the Vermilion Dragonflies hovered a bowshot away from the slow-moving river of debris, gently drifting Coreward–to use Char’s word. Every eye scanned the rubble. Shioni identified bits of centipede-like carapaces and the bodies of many Banded Eels, crushed. Her heart quivered like a pair of Fiuri wings in full flight. What chance could Iridelle possibly have of surviving? She had been engulfed …

  Suddenly, Tellira cried out, “There!” He and Viri launched themselves off their Dragonfly, arrowing toward what Shioni had taken for a boulder, at first. No, it was Iridelle, squirming free from the rubble with an unconscious Yellow Fiuri soldier draped over each shoulder. Her throat closed. Great leaping hyenas! That was courage in action.

  Iri began to wave her hands frantically, shouting something Shioni could not make out.

  The debris blasted toward them. A great, glistening head, as wide as ten Vermilion Dragonflies flying side by side, thundered out of the muck to engulf the front half of Ashkuriel’s mount. The Yellow Fiuri screamed in pain. Shioni, who had just stood up to see if she could help Viri with her sister, whirled to see the great, predatory mouth chomping down a second time. Tinkling, crystalline music filled her mind. Strange colours swept across her vision. Ashkuriel! He was trapped!

  Before she knew it, Shioni darted into the fray, her four wings vibrating so rapidly, all she could see from the corners of her eyes was a blur. Ashkuriel pawed weakly at his saddle straps, struggling to free himself. The creature’s outward-sloping fangs dug into the Dragonfly right in front of the Yellow Fiuri–had he lost a leg? Shioni slapped into the Dragonfly’s flank. Its wings fluttered feebly.

  Clutching Ashkuriel’s saddle, Shioni said, “Here, let me help you.”

  The yellow eyes widened. “Get away, child, before it eats you too …”

  “No!” She slapped his belt buckle. “Come on!”

  The thing’s breath smelled like nectar, the heat of it enough to curl her antennae, Shioni thought. Its awesome presence made her dizzy, not merely with fear, but with the awareness of searing magic–and intelligence? Ashkuriel’s buckle was stuck. Drawing her dagger, Shioni sawed at the leather straps. Having finished its downward grinding motion, the mouth began to yawn open again. Howling hyenas, how could she have been so pollen-brained? This was Ashkuriel, her enemy! Yet the White Fiuri refused to give up. He must not die, not while she had a chance.
/>
  The tough leather finally yielded to her efforts with a robust ‘Twang!’

  “Come,” she manoeuvred him out of the saddle. Ashkuriel groaned, his left leg dangling at a ghastly angle. “Put your arm over my shoulders. Fly!”

  Fluttering gamely, Shioni tried to haul the much larger adult Fiuri away from the monster. The mouth gaped above them like a living cavern, a vile, luminous green within, with yellow patterns on the ridges of its gullet. Fangs ten Fiuri long lined its mouth, a dozen or more gleaming ranks of needle-sharp teeth. The Dragonfly twitched once and fell limp. The driver had vanished, perhaps down the creature’s maw. The other two soldiers, occupying the rear saddles on the Vermilion Dragonfly, had abandoned Ashkuriel at once.

  For a second, as they winged away, Shioni thought they were safe. Then a wind rose. The creature was drawing breath! The suction force was incredible. Shioni thought her wings would fall off, they were fluttering so fast, but the creature’s breath dragged at them until she found herself flying backward in the air.

  Ashkuriel gasped, “No, Shionelle–leave me. You escape.”

  Suddenly, a Vermilion Dragonfly flashed right across the creature’s open mouth! “Incoooooooming!” screamed Chardal. “Catch this!” A rope slapped Shioni’s legs. Suddenly, there came a sharp tug on her ankle as a loop tightened there. Her arm muscles burned as, clasping Ashkuriel for dear life, Shioni found herself dragged away at high speed, snared by the rope tied to Chardal’s mount.

  The creature receded rapidly; Shioni shuddered as she looked back over her shoulder, past her wings. What was it? Some freak of a caterpillar or worm-like creature, apparently blind, searching for its prey with huge sniffs of its nostrils. An odd thought struck her. The thing resembled Lifi’s children! The colours were different, a fiery yellow of its carapace, curling and shifting as though the creature itself were aflame, mesmerising her … but the shape, the impression of a vast mind … she shook her head. Truly, she was mad. This was worse than amnesia.

  Such a wicked thought. She must never tell her Green Fiuri friends.

  Behind, she saw the other Dragonfly bearing Iridelle and the two Yellow soldiers, coming after them. She knew they would not stop until they had put many, many wing-lengths between them and that monster.

  She turned to smile unsteadily at Ashkuriel. “Are you alright?”

  He nodded. “Broke my leg–lucky to still have the leg, by my wings.” He hissed softly around his tongue, “Shionelle … why? Don’t you hate me?”

  “Ah …” she shrugged. “You’re just doing your job, Ashkuriel.”

  “Being Tazaka’s thug, do you mean?”

  Shioni grimaced, blushing to the tips of her antennae. Were her thoughts so easily read? If he was grateful for the rescue, that would revert to normal soon enough. Wishing to change the subject, she asked, “What was that thing, Ashkuriel? Do you know?”

  He replied, “A Cave-Crawler.”

  Chapter 14: Green Central

  FROM THE CRACKS to Green Cave Two was a single day’s flight, yet they entered a different world, a vast habitat of flowers and butterflies. Millions of butterflies of every conceivable colour and shape inhabited the long, winding tunnel, some so large, they rivalled the Vermilion Dragonflies for size. Each flock of butterflies sang their own song as they flitted from place to place. After they passed through the wards, they began to encounter the Fiuri herders of the butterflies–Green Fiuri with butterfly-like wings of their own, easily the most beautiful Fiuri Shioni had yet encountered. Their wing and body patterns appeared to have been crafted by an unknown artist; the greens picked out in gold, silver and platinum highlights. Many Fiuri rode the larger butterflies, and spoke a language of clicks and whistles with their mounts.

  Now Shioni felt more colourless than ever.

  “The butterfly caterpillars of Cave Two make the best silks and fabrics in the Caverns,” said Char. “These are the master weavers and herders of the different butterflies.”

  Shioni, who had managed to keep her tongue rolled up for once, smiled at Char. “And what are they taking from their mouths?”

  “Food,” said Char, making a face. “The butterflies regurgitate a kind of curdled nectar-milk which these Green Fiuri just adore. It’s vile. But the milk does appear to have certain medicinal properties, if you can stomach the taste. Here.” He whistled sharply to attract the attention of a nearby butterfly-rider. “Could you spare a chunk of milk for this little petal, my friend? She’s never tasted butterfly milk before.”

  A chunk of milk? A chunk? Shioni wrinkled her nose, but declined to correct Chardal. She did not want to make another entry in his bulging notebook.

  The noble Green inclined his head. In a fine, ringing voice he said, “Gladly shall I bless you, little petal. May Zurriol’s milk ignite your true Colour.”

  Shioni giggled, “How I wish it would! Thank you.”

  “What age would you like?” he inquired.

  “Er … age? What’s best?”

  “The older the better,” he said, scowling at Chardal, who instantly stopped chortling in the background. “The taste becomes richer and more piquant with age.”

  “So the milk is matured in the butterfly’s stomach?” asked Shioni.

  “Indeed–in a special, secondary stomach, a process which may last up to three orbits.”

  Char made a muffled choking noise.

  She bowed from the saddle, touching her antennae in a gesture she had learned from Lifirielle. “May I be so bold as to ask for your oldest? It would be an enormous honour, ah–”

  “Exalted Butterfly-Master,” whispered Chardal.

  Shioni repeated this honorific, earning herself a delighted smile. “Quite the petal, aren’t you?” murmured the Green. “Zurriol, the Fiuri child pays us great respect.” And he whistled his commands to the butterfly.

  Ashkuriel, who was now sharing a seat on their Dragonfly, had turned to observe this exchange. He said, “Shionelle may appear small, Butterfly-Master, but two days ago, she single-handedly pulled me out of a Cave-Crawler’s mouth when it ate my Dragonfly. I broke this leg–” he indicated the clear cast covering his leg from ankle to thigh “–but I live to tell the tale.”

  The butterfly made heaving motions of its abdomen, as if preparing to vomit. Reaching into its mouth, the Green Fiuri produced a neat handful of a sticky, orangey-yellow substance.

  “Oh, it’s cheese!” Shioni exclaimed.

  Behind her, Chardal’s notebook rustled.

  But the Butterfly-Master gasped and growled, “How do you know the secret words of the butterfly-kind, little petal?”

  Shioni paused in the act of accepting the gift. “I’m sorry, Butterfly-Master, but I have amnesia. I could not say. But if I know one of your secrets, do you think I could be one of your people?”

  His large, shimmering green eyes looked her over from her antennae to her toes. Taking in her four wings, the Butterfly-Master’s frown deepened. “You’re no Fiuri of a cave I know, little petal–unless your wings are a natural mutation. Four wings and a white colour? This is a mystery only the mightiest of Blue Fiuri ward-workers could fathom, I fear. Here. Taste and enjoy Zurriol’s gift.”

  How did she know about cheese? The full-bodied smell that greeted her nostrils as she took a curious whiff of the substance which now filled her hand, transported her to another time and place. She saw strange creatures gathered around a rough wooden table, laughing and singing together, the sounds alien to her ear. Bread and goats’ cheese, she thought. Ayb, a word from her past which described a certain kind of soft cheese …

  This cheese, though, was a thousand tastes in one, smooth and infinitely creamy, so intense that it made her tongue quiver and her lips pucker in startled delight. Shioni could only nibble a tiny piece at a time, because the taste was the essence of glory, making her heart palpitate and her wings tremble uncontrollably.

  “Good?” inquired the Butterfly-Master. Shioni turned such a look upon him that the Green Fiuri began to g
urgle with laughter. To her surprise, his butterfly Zurriol began to laugh too, a tinkling sound like a cascade of tiny crystals sliding over a smooth surface. “You did request the most aged of all …”

  Viri prodded her in the ribs. “Speak, Shionelle!”

  Phweep! She hiccoughed.

  Everyone laughed; Shioni felt heat rising toward her antennae. “Well, you try–” she clapped her hand over her mouth as a squeaky, breathless voice emerged.

  “As powerful as one of my Dad’s nectars!” said Viridelle, proudly. “Speak up, little petal.”

  “You mean, ‘squeak up’,” Char grinned.

  “Very funny,” Shioni peeped, and ended in a fantastically soprano chirp of rage, “Oh, this is ridiculous!”

  After Shioni finished thanking the Exalted Butterfly-Master for his gift, the remaining Vermilion Dragonflies of Ashkuriel’s party set out for Cave One, properly called Green Central. They stopped at a large blue water bubble to clean off the dust and grime of the Cracks, before settling down for sleep in a patch of hammock flowers which were expressly provided for the use of travellers. A Green Fiuri flower-keeper offered them refreshing nectars–imported from the Nectar Guild of Cave Seventeen, Spinward, Iri declared excitedly pointing out the family’s flower-crest on the gourd–and the services of a group of Fiuri youngsters to brush down and polish the Dragonflies.

  As the flowers and plants brightened into daytime, a patrol of fifteen Vermilion Dragonflies, each loaded with five Yellow Fiuri soldiers, surrounded them. The Captain of the dazzle saluted them crisply. “Escort from Lord Tazaka, Commander Ashkuriel! You will hand the prisoner over to us.”

  Ashkuriel scowled, “I will take the prisoner to Lord Tazaka personally.”

  “You’ve done enough, Commander. You may return to–”

  “Captain Hazzuriel!” Ashkuriel’s roar cut off the other soldier. “Do you disrespect my rank?”

  Shioni stared from one to the other. Hazzuriel was younger, but no less hard-faced than Ashkuriel. She would not be surprised if he sharpened his teeth on crystals every morning, because when he smiled, it was to display a perfect row of needle-sharp fangs, quite unlike anything she had seen in a Fiuri before. Next to her ear, Chardal whispered rapidly, “They’re Tazaka’s personal guard, Shionelle. I’d say it’s an honour, but worry as to why Tazaka thinks you merit this kind of attention. Ashkuriel outranks him, but Hazzuriel has the reputation of being a larva-killer.”