The Questory of Root Karbunkulus - Quill

by Kamilla Reid

  “Kidlets, I think it’s time to go.” He whispered without moving.

  A whimper brought their attention to a large black tree to the right.

  Poor Chesterly, didn’t even see it coming. The resin was already halfway up his legs. Not even the desperate pulling, yanking and pushing of three teens, three Hovers and one old man could help him escape. The amber had caught him in its gluey’d trap. And now it was slurping down the tree, sticking his hair and ears and poor Chesterly’s short tail, no matter that it had sunk between his legs.

  The thing with swamp amber is that it is everywhere. It leaks from trunks and branches, rises up from roots, leaving nothing unstuck in its path. And so it was that sixteen more legs were efficiently caught in its warm, thick syrupy trap.

  After Chesterly, Skubblenob was the next to be entirely encased. Within mere seconds he became a permanent fixture, forever reaching for his beloved Hover, a look of desperate apology and regret etched in the lines of his face.

  Dwyn was the last. He’d managed to get a fair distance away before his legs could no longer push through the amber. He turned to look for his friends and as the last golden liquid gooped over his head he spied Root. Frozen. Her arms were spread over her dear Stogie, vainly trying to keep him protected. As Dwyn felt his own body seize up, his eyes caught the suspended image Lian, desperately digging in the travel pack. Dwyn did not see his beloved Hana behind him, frozen in her attempt to get him on her back.

  Now what many people do not know is that swamp amber does not kill you. At least not right away. Lian concluded early on that the amber put its victims in a sort of stasis where bodily functions slow down to the point of near death, not Death death. But exactly how long this would take, he had no idea. Digestion was already stalled and days later he was still not hungry. He surmised that breathing had also slowed and came about most likely through the thousands of tiny air bubbles that had seeped in with the amber.

  He was encouraged by the story of Inavere Cracklin, who’d been rescued from amber after many months in its belly. And yet, there was something about her that had changed. Her body had swiftly returned to health but her mind…well, months of isolation seemed to have taken a toll. She was never the same. And so, with this in mind, Lian spent his eternal hours in a strict regime of study. To him it was his best mode of defense against the games his mind would soon play.

  Dwyn, too had come to this conclusion but, in the way that is Dwyn, he’d decided not to waste all this free time in study but in adventure. He sent his mind on spectacular missions and journeys using every ounce of his abilities as he did, facing a myriad of dangers and forcing himself to live it, moment by moment. If he couldn’t actually do it live, in his mind was the next best thing. Either way he would eventually die feeling the same way.

  Over the next few days Root relaxed her body into its eternal mold, resigned to her doom, at least no longer fighting it with the kind of tension that made her joints ache. She did not slip so easily into ‘positive thinking’ as her teammates had. Instead she spent many hours thinking the worst. And when it didn’t happen, she felt herself drift into desperation. Into limbo, the mind’s playground. Here she came face to face with many foes, amongst them the great shadows, Doubt and Fear who taunted her with delight.

  “Who were you to have ever thought you could be somebody?”

  “Face it, you really are nothing more than a common thief.”

  “And now you’re going to die.”

  “Come now. Be sensible. Just….let…go.”

  “No!” Root attempted but it came out like a feeble wet rag that made her feel even weaker.

  Her legs ached to run and hide but the amber held her like a straight jacket The rest of her body panicked, struggled in its trap. Her mind ran toward hysteria. She could feel madness slinking in, trying to sway her into a doughy surrender.

  That’s when Jorab’s words wafted up warm and comforting, like the healing mists of a hot spring. “The mind is mighty for it houses belief, which is everything. And belief in one’s self is mightiest of all. Hold fast, little Root.”

  With that, Root’s mind heaved a great sigh of strength, turned and staggered away from its bleak and warped playground. Soon, she found herself back, encased in amber, looking at the world through a copper tinge. With all of time before her she would at the very least enjoy her own company. And the company of anything else within eyeshot. In this case, the startled body of a giant guinea pig or marmot of some kind. Great. The entire rest of her life would be spent staring at a rodent. It was an ugly thing with wiry hair clumped here and there along its fat, sausage of a body and blotchy grey face. She had no idea what it was. So with nothing better to do on the agenda she spent hours pondering it. And the more she did, the more she realized it was less a rodent and more a pig…or a cow. Yes, even the nose, fat and wide was a cowish nose. Plus the legs had hooves….Definitely of the bovine family. But so small…wait! Maybe it was a thumb horse? No, too big. And too ugly. A thumb cow? Does DréAmm have those? When it dawned on her that perhaps this cow-pig-rodent was a baby cow-pig-rodent, her heart seized in the kind of way one’s does when one sees a puppy. Poor baby! No matter that this was probably the ugliest cow-pig-rodent-puppy she’d ever seen. A baby is a still baby and well, this posed all sorts of maternal feelings. And moral outrage! Poor thing. It just wasn’t fair.

  “Fairness is subjective.” Came a deep, low scratchy voice in Root’s head. If she hadn’t been stone stiff she’d’ve surely jumped. But instead she endured the thumping attack of her heart. Was this Fear returned?

  “I will not fight you.” she thought and once again turned her focus away.

  “You cannot fight us. You are immobile.”

  “In body, perhaps but not mind.” she responded.

  “Clearly yes, but it is not your mind we are concerned with.”

  Root wondered what ‘we’ meant. Had madness come as well? Was she losing this game after all?

  “Who is this?” she demanded.

  “We are the Glawering.”

  “Who?”

  “We that have so captured you into tombs of

  our blood.”

  Root paused. Blood? Tombs of blood?

  Okay, this was getting way too…Wait a minute… “You mean the amber?”

  “We do.”

  “You’re the trees?”

  “Not mere trees. We are the Glawering, the

  Shepherds of Life.”

  “Well, you’re not doing a very good job!”

  “Perhaps, from your perspective as you have been delayed of life.”

  “Not just me. Look at all the other innocent creatures you’ve captured. What did they do to deserve this?

  “The amber spills without prejudice. Until the hour of restitution, all who trespass shall bide such fate.”

  “Hour of restitution? What’s that supposed to mean?” Root had hated Shakespeare in school and now resented having to decrypt the baroque language of these things, too.

  “Once many and proud, the Glawering spread from sea to sea. But now, at the hands of your nations we are all that remain. Thus all life that housed in our branches and took breath from our essence and ate of our nourishing leaves and took safety in our hollows, are gone.”

  Before Root could make sense of what the Glawering was saying she had to make sense of herself. Had she gone mad? Or was she actually somehow conversing with swamp trees?

  “Quatra has given you much of itself, Root Karbunkulus. We have not seen the likes of its power in one since the ancient days.”

  So she was conversing with them. With real trees, albeit trees that were clearly feeling justified in keeping her hostage.

  “So, what happened?” she asked.

  “You tell us.”

  “I…I don’t know. You said there were many of you? And now there are few? Were you…chopped down?” There was no reply and she knew it was true. They’d been somehow destroyed.

  “But, can’t you…
y’know propagate?” Wow, good word. Lian had been rubbing off, after all. “And grow somewhere else?”

  “In this we are barren.”

  “Why?”

  “The last of our seed is fallen. It lies dormant in this black place, where the soil is poisoned from battle. We do not bear fruit. We do not bear leaves, we do not bear the sweet blossoms of life.”

  “There was a battle here?”

  “War and war again.”

  Root went silent. And then she had an idea. “I know of one who can nurse your seed and give you back your life. He’s my friend, captured here in your amber. I believe there’s no one better to do this.”

  The Glawering tumbled out a long, deep laugh that sounded like distant thunder. “You think us fools!”

  “No! No, I don’t. It’s true! He’s a Natruid!”

  The trees hummed a deep rolling of sound. “The Natruids are gone the way of death. They seek to dominate nature, not harmonize with it.”

  “That’s not true! Lian loves nature. He respects it as no one I’ve ever seen! He’s gifted in this and I’m certain beyond doubt that he can help you.”

  The Glawering whispered and hummed with a bottomless boom that made Root’s amber cocoon vibrate. “And then what, Root Karbunkulus? Who shall take our seed from this land of death? Who shall spread it back into the corners of DréAmm?”

  “I will!” Root shouted. “I will do that.”

  She was answered with silence. A long silence that pressured her to persuade further. “I will do it, not for my escape, nor the escape of my friends, nor the escape of the innocent animals amongst your prey. I will do it because, despite your actions here, you are deserving of this. As are those that would benefit from you. I will do it because I…because I want to.”

  “We have heard these words before.” The Glawering thrummed. “You are no different, Root Karbunkulus.”

  Root felt them leaving her. Her heart fell.

  “In these words you may trust.” came a new voice. It was not the Glawering and yet its round and mellow tones had a familiarity Root could not place. It continued. “I have seen this child. She acts in heart and you will do well by her offering.”

  Who is that? Root thought. She flipped through her files of memories, trying to put a face to this voice that she knew she knew. It wasn’t Jorab. He comes in more clear. This voice came in more like a flicking pulse of feeling.

  “Root Karbunkulus.” The Glawering said with the ring of an old ancient bell. “The Tagit snake claims you as true to heart.”

  The Tagit! The Tagit! Oh my goodness! Root’s mind leapt as she reconciled the voice with the double-headed snake. Her friend! The Tagit, who had taken her and hundreds more on his back to help them escape slavery. Who had stripped himself into two and sacrificed one for her freedom. Then she made the connection. This was the other half that had escaped and was now encased in the amber of sixteen trees.

  “Tagit?” she said.

  “Greetings, friend.” The snake replied.

  “I am so sorry that this is what became of you. I hope you can forgive me.”

  “There is nothing to forgive, Root Karbunkulus. You gave me many months of freedom and more, a union and a hatchling. I could never be more grateful.”

  Root felt a shiver try to make its way underneath the skin of her back. She smiled inside. A shiver, in this tomb. Imagine that.

  A tremor rose up from the earth. The sky seemed to greet it in magnetic waves. Root could hear something, whispers and rustling of thought. She felt like she was eavesdropping on gods, too far away to hear actual words, but close enough to sense enormous power. The power that creates life.

  When the sky folded back and the earth buried its tongue once more, the Glawering raised their deep, haunting voices. “Root Karbunkulus. In this we shall release you.”

  “No!” she cried. “ I offered Lian, not me. He’s the one who can help you. I don’t know anything about…”

  There was a deep, vibrating hum again. Root felt warmth spread from the crown of her head, down her back and along the length of her legs and with this a slow softening of her copper shell as it slowly slid away.

  15

  OH YAY, A SWAMP PIG

  When the last of the amber drooled from Lian’s ankles, he looked around with blinking, startled eyes. Root was standing in front of him, goopy and gunked with, of all things, a smile on her face.

  She gave him no time for savoring relief or even asking questions before thrusting him into his duty. A duty way, way, way beyond his ability. He couldn’t imagine what she had told the Glawering but whatever it was was surely overkill, if not flat out lying. He had heard Root talking about him before, words like ‘amazing Natruid’ and ‘the best’ and, sure he could’ve corrected her but c’mon, who wouldn’t like to be praised like that? Besides, it was to kids who didn’t know any better; who wouldn’t ask him to prove it. Not nasty black tree spirits.

  “How’m I supposed to do that?” he spewed in a whisper, hoping not to be overheard.

  “I don’t know. You’re the amazing Natruid.”

  “In training, Root. In training.”

  “Oh p’shaw,” she said, liking the word p’shaw. “You can so do it, Lian!”

  Lian looked at her, his expression a complete opposite to the faith in her eyes. He heaved a great sigh, turned away and began pacing. When, at length his steps took on the familiar shape of a figure eight, Root relaxed and hid her smile. It would not be long now.

  He came to her shortly thereafter, with an idea. “Ask the Glawering where their last seed landed?”

  She did and was told it lay in the bottom of the swamp, a syrupy mass of coffee colored water covered in a thick skin of green.

  Great.

  Another hour or so passed with things coming together under the direction of Lian. Sloshvine was attached between himself and Root. She was to brace behind a large tree bordering the swamp, on standby in the event that Lian needed to be pulled ashore.

  Though Lian had somehow transformed his shirtsleeve into a comfortable breathing apparatus and put ClearView drops in his eyes to see underwater, Root knew he dreaded the very idea of his task. She would’ve done it in a second, but with no idea what a Glawering seed looked like nor what it was capable of, it was best held for Lian’s expertise.

  As he slowly lowered himself into the cold and slime of the swamp Root tightened her grip, determined to keep him firmly attached to dry….well, dryer ground. She watched him now, sinking beneath the nastiest of nasty, the last of his head disappearing from view.

  Minutes went by. All Root could see was the Sloshvine pulling away from her, sagging into the swamp. There was no tugging, just a slow unraveling of it from shore. As Lian progressed Root could sometimes hear his breath through the reed-sleeve, a heavy, uncomfortable panting that made her feel really sorry for him.

  And then, in the twitch of an eye the reed was gone.

  Just. Gone.

  Before she could even react, Root was yanked so hard she lost her footing and went flying into the water. Amidst hysterical splashing and the choking inhalation of slime Root fumbled to keep a hold of the Sloshvine and drag it back to shore. But something very strong had other plans. Again she was yanked from her bearings, even deeper into the murky depths. Millions of slimy green algae eggs clotted up her nose and throat, making her gag and spit up like a jagged fountain. Before she could recover, the Sloshvine was once more yanked with such force that it all but disappeared. Only the very last bit of the end remained. Root clung to it desperately, her only lifeline to Lian.

  It was a battle of strength that Root was clearly losing as she found herself getting pulled lower and lower into the water. Her fingers were clenched so tightly around the Sloshvine they were now locked in a numb curl. All the while her feet skidded, desperately hoping the muddied floor of the swamp would eventually present a brace of some sort. But a brace isn’t exactly something that one would find in mud, especially swamp mud. Soon
her chin reached the green surface and once again she was fighting to keep algae from invading her nose and mouth.

  Whatever this thing was, it was strong and it was not giving up easily. It was not giving up at all. It pulled Root further and further into the cold depths of its home until only the pumpkin-orange of her hair could be seen in a wet fan along the surface. When this too disappeared and her lungs were forced into a last, hoarded breath, Root knew she had to let go.

  Her heart nearly collapsed at the thought of leaving her friend alone in this cold, deathly under-water place. She couldn’t do it. She could not let go and leave Lian here, to this monster. And yet even as she debated this, the thick waters began to take their toll. Her grip of the Sloshvine grew weaker and her brain swooped into a meandering world of surrender.

  She did not feel the arms grip her waist, nor the slur of water pushing past. It was only once the glorious force of air hit her lungs that she was brought back to awareness.

  “Quick! We’ve gotta get away from the shore! It’s a Swamp Pig!”

  It was Lian! Root looked to see that her fingers were still wrapped around the Sloshvine. She hadn’t let go! And now Lian was safe on the shore of…

  Did he say Swam Pig?

  Indeed.

  Imagine a hippo with a big fat pig snout and barbed tusks. Add to this red albino eyes and the fires of hell in a cold blooded, muddied expression. And a mountain range of teeth firmly attached to your friend’s ankle, should your friend be Lian Blick.

  Even as Root saw this, the tides abruptly turned and Lian, god only knows how, managed to break free. On the polar side to this, the Swamp Pig now turned to Root.

  Imagine a mountain range of teeth firmly attached to your own ankle, should you be Root Karbunkulus.

  “Aaaaaaaaaaaahhh!”

  The Swamp Pig began to retreat. Taking Root with it. Root’s fingernails clumped with mud as she scraped for grip. Lian took hold of her hands. Then he too was sliding swamp-ward, both of them edging closer and closer into the monster’s sludgy underwater den.