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The Questory of Root Karbunkulus - Quill

Page 28

by Kamilla Reid


  And Dwyn snapped.

  The transformation was slow at first. Dwyn’s mouth took shape. The lips curled back with a lethal calm that made the skin crawl. From them came a growl that meant no one would escape alive. Certainly not Hilly Punyun who was now backing into a corner. No one stopped him. The director because he was too frozen with fear. The others because they wanted nothing more than Hilly’s head on a platter. The rest of Dwyn took shape, black and seething. “You have gone too far this time, Hilly Punyun.” He said from the darkest, heaviest guts of his throat. He bared his teeth revealing steel tipped razors fit for revenge.

  “But I didn’t know it was a…”

  “Yes you did! And you’re gonna pay!”

  Hilly Punyun was just about to experience real pain when, to her luck, the door burst open again.

  Jorab towered in the threshold. His eyes were urgent. “Miss Karbunkulus. I think you better come with me!”

  Early winter was making its way into the trees, plucking the last of their leaves and making their branches thick black cracks against the deepening sky. Everyone shuffled in line behind Jorab, including Hilly Punyun albeit at a great distance. He led them to an open pen outside the stables where the air was cool and soothing. Mordge was kneeling over CPR, wiping a warm cloth across her head. The creature’s eyes were wild and she was convulsing more than ever. Root ran to her side. “What’s wrong with her? Is she…is she dying?”

  Mordge said nothing. She applied another warm cloth at CPR’s neck.

  “No! She can’t! She can’t die! Jorab, there must be something! Is there nothing you can do?”

  Jorab’s eyes met Root’s and she thought he might Mind-Speak but he only gestured his head. A lift of his chin that said ‘be with her now.’

  Root threw herself over CPR. There was no fur left on her frail body, just the blotchy remains of skin. “I don’t understand. She was getting bigger and everything. Why now?” Root’s eyes were blurred in tears. Oh, how sick she was of crying. Why was this happening? When was it ever going to end?

  She paused as a realization reached her heart. Maybe it was ending. The suffering at least. Maybe dying was the best thing now, what CPR wanted. In that moment Root realized she had to let go. The poor, delicate thing just should not suffer another instant. She had been through enough.

  If her time has come, let it be easy. Let it be as gentle as…she is…Root sobbed. Her eyes and nose leaked relentlessly. She didn’t care. A sleeve smeared across her face while she tenderly stroked the length of her beloved companion’s back. “It’s okay, girl. Let go if you need to. Don’t stay for me. It’s okay. I’ll be…I’ll be okay.”

  Root knew every lump and fold of CPR’s back, having stroked it a zillion times over these past weeks. A new bump bubbled up right under her hand. She pulled back. The bump cracked open and a leak of blood spilled out. Root jumped up. “What’s happening?”

  Mordge looked at Jorab. “It’s time.”

  “What? What’s time? Time for what? Tell me!” Root backed away in fear and inadequacy.

  Just then CPR cried out a shrill howl that snapped the heart in two. The cut in her back split further and that’s when Root saw another one tear open. CPR howled again. Root went to run to her but Jorab stopped her. She looked at him. Something told her not to interfere. It was the course of nature. She released her strength and gathered everything within herself to find God somewhere in the distance between her and CPR. God would know what to do.

  A crowd was gathering, having come from the theatre. Amongst them Hyvis Punyun and Studaben Picklepug, pushing their way through to the front.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Picklepug demanded. He resented there being an ‘event’ occurring of which he had not been informed.

  When Hyvis caught sight of the happening she was staggered. “This is not appropriate for the impressionable eyes of our youth, Jorab! Hilly, I demand you come with me this instant!” She grabbed hold of her daughter, but Hilly pulled away. She was not about to miss the death of Root Karbunkulus’ ugly pet. Besides, it was fascinating.

  The skin of CPR began to crack and peel back, to pull away from her bones. It looked like she was splitting into pieces. Root buried her face into Jorab’s shoulder. Mordge stayed with CPR, offering a soft cooing voice in the midst of her pain and writhing.

  When Root looked out again, she saw something. Something that sent a rush of goose bumps over every inch of her body. She had spied what was underneath the shell of CPR’s discarding skin, a hint of pale pink.

  A hint of pale, fresh, healthy pink.

  “Oh my goodness…she’s…she’s molting!”

  Jorab, still with his hands on Root’s shoulders, squeezed tenderly.

  A murmur spread through the crowd, raising the bar of excitement to its loftiest level.

  “Oh so now it’s gonna be a bigger ugly!” a familiar voice called out, scraping Root’s nerves bare. She felt her blood boil at the mere sound of Kor. It was all she could do to stop from hunting him down and sticking a grenade down his throat.

  But before she could say anything something happened that sent a tidal wave of shivers through the entire crowd.

  CPR wailed in a wrenching tone that had never been heard from her before.

  “Stand back!” Mordge called out and stepped away.

  The open cuts of CPR’s back erupted further, tearing strips along the spine. Blood splattered.

  Something was pushing, pushing. pushing…

  All eyes were wide and transfixed.

  Nature itself closed around them in maternal expectation.

  CPR moaned…she pushed…and pushed….then…her great heart cried out…

  And a set of wings burst into the open!

  Wings!

  The entire world seemed to lose its breath.

  CPR got to her feet. A shell of old loose skin fell away, helped by the awkward flapping of new celestial feathers She was wet, and shivering with a smooth new blanket of fur, coated in a whitish chalk. Root saw that she now stood twice her previous height. Yet it was a frail composure. It wobbled and strained under its new shape and weight. CPR’s unstable legs gave out and she collapsed in a pile on the ground.

  Root was about to run to her when Jorab stopped her again.

  “You will need this.” He pulled out a small object. Root recognized it immediately. The soft sponginess. The beautiful ivory surface. Up close she could also see for the first time hundreds of tiny holes.

  The Song.

  Jorab smiled. “When I told Haverly what I suspected your CPR was, she thought you would need this.”

  Root gulped. She took the ivory shell into her hands and walked toward her beloved CPR. CPR lifted her head. In that moment Root saw the entire universe look back at her.

  She raised the Song to the sky.

  As if waiting for this moment since the dawn of time, the wind gathered. It gathered and fell upon every single tiny round opening of the shell.

  And the Song began.

  CPR heard it at once and her skin rippled in answer.

  The Song fell like a gentle, miraculous snow.

  Nothing else existed. It was as if a pure strain of love was being set to music. It sang around CPR, touching every strand of hair and anointing it in white. It spun a chorus of light around her legs and her chest and her back. And still its heavenly melody played on. A swirl of sound brightened over CPR’s head and in a glorious moment the beginnings of antlers sprung forth. The music sparkled and danced around them as they grew and grew…and grew. Into a majesty of power and strength.

  The world awed.

  The Song played on.

  A host of angels. The ringing of bells. The hope of a harp.

  The Song melted into CPR’s skin and lungs and heart and blood. Her legs strengthened. Her body ripped and muscled. Her eyes sparkled into silvery light. Her head raised, tossing great antlers into their power. And her wings. Oh, her wings!

  They opened to the Song, welcom
ing it like a breeze into their folds and down. Gleaming liquid silver, thick as syrup spread into their Quills. And from them blossomed the most beautiful, softest, firmest of plumes, pulsing in light and color. CPR spread her wings open, a long awaited stretch of muscle, reaching, reaching across the pen, past the imaginations of the onlookers. In them could be seen the sun and the moon and the stars.

  A great sound came from the majestic, noble beast that now stood before the crowd.

  CowPigRodent indeed.

  They were standing in front of the nobility and power of the last mighty HaloEm of DréAmm!

  38

  THE GIFT

  “Karbunkulus won!” Someone called from the stunned crowd. “The Valadors are the last team!”

  “No, they’re not! So, it’s a HaloEm. That doesn’t mean anything. They still don’t have a Quill!” Hilly Punyun yelled, then, at the sight of Dwyn backed off and hid behind her mother.

  “That is correct! This Quest is not complete until a Quill has been submitted to committee for approval.” Hyvis supplied.

  “But she’s got better than that! She’s got the full meal deal, man! A whole HaloEm!” another kid called out, triggering a hot debate amongst the crowd.

  “Ahem.” The Guardian had found and was now standing upon a platform. “Now, now children. Let’s not get too carried away. As Guardian of DréAmm and head of the Quest Committee it is my duty to inform you that a single Quill is what was required and I am sorry but I do not believe this HaloEm has gifted anyone as far as I can see.”

  “Let her at least try!”

  “Yeah, let Root Karbunkulus try!” A collective chant broke in. “Let Karbunkulus try! Let Karbunkulus try!”

  The Guardian turned to Root. His eyes were greedy and expecting. Piggish.

  Her heart skipped. She looked at CPR who was still just CPR to her.

  “This is preposterous!” Hyvis Punyun broke in. “She can’t attempt to pluck from the beast! It will tear her from limb to limb!” She had found her own box upon which to stand and was now higher than the Guardian. “Master Picklepug, I demand that you cease this endangerment immediately. Pet or no, a HaloEm will become fierce even to loved ones if it perceives selfish motives!”

  The Guardian did not answer. He had succumbed to his own greedy curiosity as to the fate of this exchange.

  But Root had heard Hyvis’ words and now she was swimming in doubt. Yes, she was CPR’s friend but who was she to just suddenly show up and pluck a Quill? Hi, congrats on your molting, mind if I help myself to one of your brand new feathers? It didn’t feel right at all. CPR hadn’t even flown in them yet and now here was Root being asked to take one. And, maybe Hyvis was right. Maybe CPR would turn on Root if she tried to pluck one. Because if Root really thought about it, her intentions were selfish. She only wanted a Quill so that she and her team could win this race. Somehow the exchange didn’t match up. No, it was all wrong. She couldn’t do it.

  She faced Picklepug who, in that very moment reminded her of the Squawnch Loathsbin. He was leering. Waiting to get his hands on the prize. This wasn’t about her at all. This was all a part of the Picklepug package. She could already hear him in media interviews supplying a tag after his name. Studaben Picklepug, discoverer of the last HaloEm. And if it ended as Hyvis had determined, he would simply cover it up, like he covered up everything. Like he covered up Krism.

  Root stood straight and looked him in the eye. “I will not violate the HaloEm. My decision is firm.”

  The crowd leapt into a gossiping frenzy.

  Picklepug kept his smile but Root could see that behind it all light had dimmed save for his eyes that briefly flashed fire. They extinguished in the next instant, determined to reclaim their blue-eyed persona.

  Someone pushed through the crowd and halted in plain view of the Valadors who were now huddled together.

  “Dad!” Lian said.

  Lord Blick’s eyes were blazing. “The last time I looked, there were three of you to this team.” He zeroed in on his son, a fierce desire overtaking him. “Now is the time, son. You must accept your destiny. A Brédin Master must seize his leadership when the time comes.” It was the same old argument but now there was an inherent threat to it. He stepped closer to Lian, patience flying from him. “There can be no hesitation! That is the kiss of death. That Quill belongs to the Valadors. If the girl is without courage, you must step up. Act now, son, despite your fear! You are a Blick!”

  Lian looked at his father. There was no recognition of himself anywhere on the great man. His father was an icon. A legend. And Lian was nothing of the sort. But he knew what felt right and wrong to him and Brédin Master or no, when it felt right, he would stay with it to death.

  “I’m not scared, dad.” he said. “I’m me.”

  He took a clear and definite step of support beside Root.

  Dwyn, very purposefully stood on her other side.

  The crowd erupted and gathered round them like flies. A heated buzzing that congested and squeezed for attention.

  “Y’mean you’re…you’re not mad that we lost for sure now?” Root whispered to her teammates.

  Dwyn put his arm around her. “How can I be mad when I’ve got a promising career as a Royal Silken Oxback?” He smiled with a teasing wink.

  “I just know that there’s no way I could’ve done it either, Root. It didn’t feel right.” Lian added, all the while keeping his eyes on the unforgiving glare of his father. Lord Blick briefly allowed himself to be jostled by the crowd before turning away. Lian watched the stately purple and gold of his uniform get swallowed up and disappear. He realized that his father never wore anything else anymore. Nothing of the easy, earth tones that had made famous roast potatoes and piggybacked his children. Nothing huggable. Lian felt a spasm of loss. His stomach ached all the way to his heart.

  All around the Valadors were the faces they’d come to love and hate. Jorab rose like a lighthouse over the waves of heads. He caught Root’s eye and nodded. Mordge was beside him. She too bowed her head and added a tender, honoring smile.

  Farther back Hyvis and Hilly Punyun were also smiling. But theirs were wicked grins. They had taken yet another victory. It made Root’s insides squirm.

  “Let’s get outta here,” she said.

  The crowd that had amassed around them began to open up. But as a hush came on its heels Root realized it wasn’t opening to let the Valadors through. It was opening up to make room for the magnificent creature that was now walking toward them.

  The HaloEm looked like a surreal vision, something angelic and not of any flesh. And yet as the gap between them grew smaller Root recognized a twinkle in the eyes. It was not like the celestial light and color of the wings. It was a spark of mischief and innocence and wonder and trust and loyalty. All the moments of their time together. It was the twinkle of friendship.

  Root felt a lump in her throat. Would CPR remember her in her new life as a HaloEm? Now that she didn’t need Root anymore?

  The magnificent white stag continued toward her. Whispers of the crowd drifted into silent awe. Once directly in front of her, Root could feel the presence of power.

  And then a thick wet tongue across her cheek.

  She flew at CPR, wrapping her arms around her neck, laughing and crying at the same time. “I thought I’d lost you!”

  It wasn’t her mother. It wasn’t her father. But it was the Embrace all the same! Another glorious addition of family. Lian’s eyes were brimming. Dwyn threw his arm around him and took a sleeve across his own sniffing nose.

  And then the moment that put even the famous Silken Oxback resurrection scene to shame.

  CPR raised her great antlers. She spread her glorious wings. She roared into the night, a mighty HaloEm staking claim of its time. She locked onto the eyes of her beloved Root Karbunkulus. And bowed.

  Her strong, muscled legs bent all the way to the ground. Her head drew low. Her wings drifted flat along the entire length of the pen.

  R
oot swallowed. It was incredible and overwhelming at the same time.

  “Look!” someone gasped.

  All eyes turned to the wings where a single feather, long and silvery and claiming the light of the aurora, gently lifted away from its hold and drifted into the air.

  It landed where it was intended, into the worn palms of Root Karbunkulus’s trembling hands.

  The HaloEm’s Gift.

  And then the white stag was up. Up. Up. Up! Into the sky! The trees lit as she passed. The stars brightened. The world healed.

  She tossed her head. Roared.

  Then she was gone.

  Overtaking the moon.

  Bodies crowded in for a look, a feel, a touch.

  But it was the hand of Studaben Picklepug that would win that game. He snatched the Quill before Root even had a chance to smooth her fingers over it.

  “That Quill should be disallowed!” Hyvis Punyun squawked. “There were only five Quills! And I have been informed that, of the original five, four were found and one was…erm…destroyed. There was no mention of a sixth Quill and therefore it should be removed from the Quest! Its very presence creates an injustice to the teams that have been working devastatingly hard to find the ones they had been sent after!”

  Jorab’s voice soared into the fray. “I daresay the discovery of a sixth Quill does create an extraordinary opportunity for re-evaluation. Indeed, it is to the advantage of all the teams to be allowed the benefits brought on by the objective forces of fate, is it not?” Jorab chose his words carefully, the way one does when sharing a private joke. But from the look on his face, it was no laughing matter.

  Hyvis tied her face into a prune. “Guardian, I insist that the matter be put to the judgement and approval of the Quest Committee! Guardian? Guardian!”

  Studaben Picklepug had become lost in the perfection of the HaloEm Quill. His eyes were melting into it. His mouth was watering. “Mmmm? What? Oh! Yes, yes agreed! We shall appoint a session first thing in the morning, in which the fate of the Valador team and the sixth HaloEm Quill shall be discussed.” He closed his hand around the prize and plowed through the crowd.

 

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