by A. R. Cook
The Distortionist looked at her, and he shook his head. “Mage Skyhan, what did I tell you? You can’t heal yourself of my Distortion. Do I need to make sure you remember that?”
He curled one of his fingers into a hook, and beckoned at her once with it. Her whole body spasmed as she blurt forth a stream of dark viscous oil from her mouth, and trails of the ooze trickled down from her nostrils and the inner corners of her eyes. She didn’t cough or gag, but her face scrunched in helpless suffering.
“Monstrous bastard!” Dormilir roared, mortified at the sight of Mage Skyhan being tortured. He began to rise, but the Distortionist slammed one of his boots down on the dwarf’s back. Dormilir growled in pain, feeling like his spine had been bludgeoned by a mace.
The stranger didn’t even look down at him. His yellow eyes were still on Mage Skyhan, whose spasms had subsided. “Be a good girl now. I’d prefer to keep you intact than rip you apart. Don’t be a fool like your brother.”
The female Hijn’s breathing slowed, but her eyes narrowed, and the edges of her mouth tilted downwards.
Her attempt at a grimace didn’t elicit any anger from the stranger. He donned a long, wicked smile. “If you hated that, then you’re really going to hate this.”
He hoisted Dormilir up by the neck, gripping him with a crushing strength. He dangled the dwarf off the ground, as he hissed, “Don’t be too proud to scream. Let the music of my art ring through this tower, and bring more material to me. Before this night is over, we shall have a symphony of raw, incredible agony!”
CHAPTER TWO
Welcome to Juka Basin
The group was up early the next day. After scouting the surrounding forest for a while, Chiriku found a clean stream winding between the trees. They all took long drinks before refilling their waterskins, and the Quetzalin managed to catch a few fish by nimble hand. Mac welcomed the fish meat heartily, while Clova remained dedicated to gathering berries and mushrooms. Desert Rain attempted to catch some fish herself, reaching out over the stream, using her long index finger and claw as a hook. This proved to be painful, as she ended up getting bitten by fish but could never quite get one out of the water. Chiriku snickered at Desert Rain’s efforts as she gutted her catches with a sharp stone she found in the stream, and then took them back to the campfire for cooking.
Desert Rain wondered how it was that Chiriku was so well adapted to surviving in the wild, and why someone with such skills had ended up cooped up in a merchant’s memory shop. She also pondered about the issue that Chiriku was a half-breed. Falcolin and Quetzalin may not have been on good terms, but they both strongly supported keeping their race pure-bred. Apparently, either a Quetzalin or a Falcolin had fallen so deeply in love with a human that they overlooked that unwritten rule of pedigree. She wondered what had become of Chiriku’s parents, if they had been in Syphurius when Katawa struck, and if they had gotten out all right. These were all questions that Desert Rain would like answered in time, but she doubted that Chiriku would answer any of them at present. Even if their minds had not been preoccupied by what they were going to do next, the memory-seller’s granddaughter was not an open person.
After finishing breakfast, the group was once again on Gust’s back and soaring off into the morning sky. Desert Rain had made sure not to eat too much before take-off, since she did not want to risk losing her breakfast in mid-air. Mac let out the occasional belch, adding, “There’s-ssck no better compliment to give a cook-clk then to let her know your stomach’s-ssck happy.”
Chiriku snorted. “Spare me any ‘compliments,’ Mac. I’m downwind of you.”
Mile after mile of forest canopy rushed by beneath them for hours. The treetops blended together so smoothly that they seemed to be one vast ocean of swaying green, being occasionally broken by the splotches of some small villages along the way. Desert Rain was rather relieved to see that nothing seemed to have become distorted or destroyed in any way, hopefully meaning that Katawa had not passed through here—yet. There was nothing out this way that would have held interest for Katawa, but then again, she could not say what was going on in that twisted mind of his. Those words he had uttered in the storm, the ones that perhaps indicated where he might be going, meant absolutely nothing to her.
Juka Basin was considered one of the Noble Cities, although it was not a city in the traditional sense. It was a collection of towns that were designed to accent the beauty of the rainforest surrounding them, rather than dismantling it. All these modest towns were nestled within a deep basin, which legend had it was created by the dragon Earthbelly pressing his underside into the earth. If you knew how massive Earthbelly was, according to the Ahshi elves, you could imagine how wide and deep Juka Basin was—it could have made a sufficient sea if it had been filled with salt water instead of forests and lagoons. This was the home of many of the eldest trees and plants in Luuva, and they covered the elven towns from above with protective hands of leaf.
The traveling companions knew they were flying over Juka Basin when the land took a sudden dip down, as if this portion of earth had deflated. This made it tricky for Gust to find a landing spot, but he found an open gap in the trees in which to descend. Unfortunately, what Gust had thought was a dry clearing was actually an algae-coated pond, and he cawed in panic as he landed smack in cold water. After some calm coaxing from Clova, the Roc ceased splashing the water with his massive wings and settled down, extending a wing to shore so his riders could dismount. He hobbled out of the water gradually, flapping his wings to dry off.
“I know this pond,” Clova commented. “It’s a short walk from here to Kapokis.”
“Great, I gotta do what the flower lady says,” Chiriku huffed as she shook off, having gotten wet from Gust’s tantrum. “And what’s in this Kapokis place anyway?”
Clova did not respond. She immediately set off down some unseen trail that the others hastily followed. Clova had even forgotten about Gust, and it took Desert Rain to remind her for the Forest Hijn to whistle the command for the Roc’s dismissal.
As they walked along, the mass of trees grew even thicker until barely any light could penetrate through the overhead foliage. Desert Rain could not even find the tops of the trees, for the lowest limbs and branches of the trees—even being the lowest, they were still about a forty foot distance from the ground—wove tightly into each other, creating a ceiling. The shade of perpetual twilight hung around them, and it was a wonder Clova could find her way through the ferns that blanketed the forest floor. The ferns, oddly enough, may have been the guides, for they seemed to slightly lean away to allow the travelers to pass through their green maze. It was most likely Clova they parted for, respecting the female heir of the earth dragon, but she was oblivious to this courtesy of nature. The trees must have noticed that she was troubled, for the seemed to whisper a sad song as the wind rippled through the leaves. Mac glanced around at the whispering trees.
“I must-tkk be losing it, if I’m getting the spine-tingles-ssck from trees-ssck,” he murmured to himself.
“It’s not just the trees,” Chiriku pointed out. She was right. There were quick movements of faint light darting in and out of the trees, but the foursome caught them out of the corners of their eyes. There were tiny murmurings, unlike the whisperings of the trees.
“Are we being followed?” Desert Rain inquired in a low voice.
“Twiights,” Clova explained. “They’re moth fairies. They mostly come out at night, but some live around here since it’s not so bright under the canopy. They’re very curious, but they won’t harm us.”
“Fairies-ssck, eh?” Mac smirked. “Li’l bug people, you mean. We call them ‘rare commodities-ssck’ in the merchant circle. You’d be set-ttk for life if you got your hands-ssck on one.” At that moment, he was hit from above by an acorn—which was odd, since there were no oak trees nearby. A light twitter of laughter came from somewhere overhead.
“Harmless-ssck, sure,” Mac huffed as he rubbed his head.
Chiriku snickered, and Desert Rain muffled a giggle behind her hand. This made Clova smiled for a second, but the smile dropped once her mind went back to her current business.
It was a shorter walk than Desert Rain expected, when Clova halted before a huge moss-covered tree. It was not a distinctively special tree, other than it was rather bulbous in shape. It was about fifteen feet wide and the moss on it was different from the usual kind—rather than growing in clumps, it spiraled up the tree in a swirl of exotic patterns. It was Ahshibana, and it was a marker for an elven town. What was missing was the town.
It had been quite some time since Desert Rain had visited Juka Basin, but she was pretty sure that she was supposed to see something—anything—indicating that there was a town in the immediate area. Maybe an Ahshi walking by, maybe the elk that the Ahshi tamed for transport, maybe the trees starting to thin out. Oddly, she thought she heard the sweet sound of Ahshi music trickling through the trees, the light airy singing of reed flutes. Yet there was quite literally—except for a plethora of these massive trees surrounding them like sentinels—nothing.
“Uh, Miss-ssck Clova,” Mac spoke up after a minute of silence, “I don’t-tkk know what kind of cities-ssck elves live in, but all I see is a funny-looking tree.”
Clova approached the tree in front of her, searching for something. She traced her finger along a particular swirl of Ahshibana, and it shimmered a vibrant green. The glow pulsated for a moment before dissolving into the bark.
“A sort of…door chime?” Desert Rain wondered, to which Clova nodded.
It took a while before there was a response to Clova’s action. Slowly, the Ahshibana began to swirl about, like a thin layer of foam on top of a warm drink. Spots on the bark bubbled, and ballooned into broad flat mushrooms, ginger-colored on top with spotted gills on the undersides. The mushrooms wound in a spiral staircase up the tree, up into the tangle of branches above.
“Come,” Clova said, as she started to ascend the mushroom stairs. The others followed, Chiriku being extra wary, glancing about to make sure they weren’t being followed. Desert Rain couldn’t imagine how these mushrooms could support a person’s weight, but as they ascended the stairs, the mushrooms handled them with ease. She was beginning to think about how she was getting quite tired of stairs—first the stairs leading down and up in the tunnels under Syphurius, then the narrow stairway on the Ascendence of Glo’rath, and now this—when they came to the top, slipping up through a gap in the canopy. When all four had come up through the gap, the desert hermit, the lizard, and the Quetzalin were surprised to find themselves standing in Kapokis.
Kapokis was actually situated between two canopies: the lower one which the foursome had traveled under, and that they now stood upon; and a second higher one comprised of the trees’ highest branches and limbs. The space between the canopies was about eleven feet high, and the light that shimmered through the upper canopy cast a tropical green light on everything. Hanging from the upper canopy’s branches were various offerings to the trees: garlands of exotic flowers, mobiles of silver coins and bells, and small baskets of pungent herbs. The residents of Kapokis were everywhere, walking carefully along the twisting tree limbs, or sitting on woven mats colored with flower dyes. There were no houses to speak of, for each Ahshi family’s “home” was indicated by their mats, the wicker baskets of collected spices and fruits surrounding them, and whatever offerings they hung above them. Each family also had a hanging lantern, filled with bioluminescent grasshoppers radiating a pinkish glow. These were not so much lanterns as insect houses, for the grasshoppers could come and go from the little grass-woven huts as they pleased, but most preferred to nibble on their grassy homes. Chiriku, who did not deal with insects on a regular basis, nearly crushed one that hopped onto her shoulder.
There were two Ahshi waiting for the foursome, an elven man and woman dressed in earthenly-colored garments, trimmed with bright exotic flowers and leafy patterns. Both of them had intricate swirl designs of Ahshibana all across their skin and faces. They smiled and bowed politely to Clova.
“Artei miu,” Clova said to the elves in greeting. The Ahshi were happy to see her, and after a brief exchange of pleasantries turned to lead the travelers through the winding paths of Kapokis.
Desert Rain looked down at the interlocked mass of tree limbs and branches she walked on. She had never seen trees grow this way, especially to make a sturdy walkway. Because of her prehensile feet, with the same elongated toes as her fingers, she found walking on the entangled tree limbs was not so difficult, and she kept a good grip. “Did you make the trees grow like this, Clova?”
“Kapokis was like this long before I became a Hijn. It is through the will and blessings of the trees that they adjusted themselves so the Ahshi could live here.”
Chiriku laughed. “What, like the trees can think and move or something? They’re wood.”
“These elder ones can, if they truly wish to. Some say these ancient trees were affected by the Great Manifestation, and are now more than—” Clova gave Chiriku a discerning look, “wood.”
“These folk-kk don’t mind having no walls-ssck?” Mac wondered as he received some curious looks from the various Ahshi households. “There’s-ssck no thieving or—” he raised an eyebrow to punctuate the meaning of his next word—“privacy issues-ssck?”
“The Ahshi believe in sharing whatever they have with their neighbors,” Clova explained, “and thievery has never been a problem here. As for privacy, if one should really need it, there are always places in the forest to sneak off to. Otherwise, there is nothing that the Ahshi need to hide.”
This was evident by the fact that some Ahshi decided to wear a minimal amount of clothing—some just accurately placed flowers and loin cloths—and Desert Rain found herself averting her eyes on more than one occasion.
“Clova,” Desert Rain cut in, “as far as I knew, most towns in Juka Basin are easily accessible. I thought the Ahshi were open to travelers. Why is Kapokis so out of the way?”
Clova looked at Desert Rain over her shoulder. “This is a very special place, Dezzy. Don’t be mistaken. Kapokis is open to everyone with peaceful intentions to visit. But it is a quiet, uninterrupted place of meditation, for this is the home of the Great Philosopher, the patriarch of the Ahshi.”
Desert Rain felt a pang of uneasiness. “A king?”
“No, no,” Clova replied with a smile. “He handles any problems that arise in Juka Basin, but he never makes anyone serve him. He is also the one who can speak with the Elfë Tiagas, which is why we must see him in order to ask for their help.”
Desert Rain bit her lip. “So he’s a wizard?”
“He would never call himself as such. He doesn’t have the power that the Elfë Tiagas have, and he relies more on his intelligence and prudence than any magic to deal with important matters. I wish everyone were as patient as he.” She leaned in close and whispered to Desert Rain. “Although he likes to ramble on about his personal philosophies, so smile and nod if he starts one of his lectures.”
“Wait, I’m not going to see him, am I?”
Clova blinked in surprise. “Of course you are. Why would you think otherwise?”
Desert Rain swallowed hard. “I thought, since you’re the Forest Hijn and all, and I don’t really belong here…”
Clova put her arm around Desert Rain in a hug. “You do belong, Dezzy. I don’t know as much about the Wretched Katawa as you do. You need to explain to the Philosopher how calamitous this situation is. It’s hard enough to get him to talk to his northern cousins as it is. I need you to do this, Dezzy. We need you to help us.”
“I told you everything I know already. I don’t want to tell it again.” Desert Rain slipped out of Clova’s embrace. Clova halted, shocked by her friend’s coldness. Their elven guides turned back when they noticed that their entourage had stopped. They asked Clova something in Ahshi, to which Clova replied with a reassuring word.
“Dezzy, I don’t understand,�
� the Forest Hijn said. “Don’t you want to help us? To help me?”
“No! I mean, yes, I want to.” Desert Rain rubbed the moonstone on her forehead in frustration. “But the way I should be able to help you, I can’t. After being bounced around to more places in the last week than I’ve ever been, I’m…” She sighed heavily to finish her point.
“You’re exhausted, I know. I’m so…anxious, I guess.” Clova held Desert Rain close for a moment. “You’re absolutely right. You need a little time to yourself.” She turned to the two elves, had a brief exchange with them, to which the elves nodded. “Paki and Tyla will let you stay with them a little while. I should go see if the Philosopher can meet with us later, so he isn’t caught too off guard.” She smiled at her friend. “I’m very happy to have you here with me, Dez. I wish the circumstances were different.”
***
“This is embarrassing,” Chiriku huffed as she shuffled uncomfortably on her mat. She glanced warily at the elves walking by, who smiled welcomingly at her. She scowled back. She threw the hood of her cloak over her head.
“Relax, Chi. Nobody’s-ssck gonna hoodwink-clk you here.” Mac stretched out on his mat. Due to the pleasant atmosphere, his lizard side was peeking through. He was getting a bit scalier, a bit redder, but he still had his grinning human face. “I must say, this-ssck is a nice place. No thieves-ssck, no back-stabbers-ssck, no swindlers-ssck. Makes me a bit homesick-kk.”
Desert Rain sat quietly, watching as their two elven hosts went about their daily tasks. The Ahshi woman, Tyla, tended to her cooking, although her method of cooking was strange since she did not use a cooking fire—a fire on top of a tree would not be the best idea. She instead used a special red powder that she would toss into a clay pot full of water, causing the water to start boiling without the assistance of heat. This would have made a fine broth by itself, but she also tossed in a few edible roots and nuts. Paki was cutting some reeds he had gathered, using a sharp stone to trim off the leafy fringes along the reeds’ sides. They were quiet, making Desert Rain wonder if they spoke the Mutual Language as those who lived in the other Noble Cities.
