Ku-aya got to her knees, flapped her coat back, and glared at Sephonei. “I thought you trained that thing to be ridden?”
Sephonei moved closer to Pery and rubbed his nose. His aura calmed, and he moved closer to Sephonei, lowering his head.
Without taking her eyes off of Pery, Sephonei said, “His name is Pery. He’s smarter than you give him credit for. He can hear what you say. Don’t call him a thing.”
Abil huffed and charged forward. “Step aside, kid. This is how you do it.” He grabbed the bridle and kicked his leg up and over Pery’s back. Pery reared and bucked once more. Abil held tight, and Sephonei stumbled back and fell. Pery mewed, extended his wings, and ran. Abil clung to the reins of the bridle as his legs kicked for leverage, dangling at Pery’s side.
Pery bucked in a panic as he tried to unload Abil from his back. It was a wild sight—Pery wrenched his head to the side, his wings extended, then he lifted off the ground. He soared just above the ground then lifted higher.
A terror-stricken Abil looked to the ground and yelled, “Help!”
“He’s scared, let go!” Sephonei yelled.
Abil peeked down and cursed, then he let go of the bridle and dropped to the ground. As Pery spiraled above, Sephonei chased after him and sang, in hopes that it would calm the winged creature. Sephonei reached for her lute, but before she was able to strike a chord, Pery landed and loped to her. He stood, calm and majestic, as Sephonei stashed her lute, straddled him, and gripped the bridle.
Sephonei leaned in close to his ear and said, “Thank you, Pery.”
Pery stamped his foot and charged forward, extending his wings and lifting off the ground. Sephonei held tight as they soared. She looked down and regretted it; she felt lightheaded, and her stomach seemed to drop—her hands felt weak, and she feared her grip would fail. She looked to the bridle and saw her knuckles were white from holding on so tight.
Her companions below vanished. The vastness of the savannah brimmed with possibilities. A wash of yellow grasslands opened up across the horizon. Herds of animals roamed and raced, clumps of trees knotted together, and water puddled in the lowlands. Several bands of water meandered through small valleys. The flatness of the land struck her. How big was the mainland?
Wind rushed past her ears and blasted her face. She could get used to this; she didn’t want it to end, but she knew it had to. She leaned close to Pery, gently pulled the bridle to one side, and said, “Back down, Pery.”
Pery descended with expert precision. The ground screamed toward Sephonei—she instinctively pulled back on the reins. They didn’t slow. Pery drove, not her. Pery’s wings tilted to the sky, and they hovered for a moment before landing gently, barely disturbing the grass under the mass of the peryton’s body.
Sephonei sat tall and looked to Ku-aya and Abil. “Ai. I guess I’m drivin’.” She pulled the reins to one side, and Pery spun and walked right toward Abil. Before they collided, Abil hopped out of Pery’s way.
Abil rolled his eyes, kicked at the dirt, and cursed. Ku-aya stood, arms crossed, and clenched her jaw repeatedly as she glared at the peryton and its rider. Shantae laughed and caught up to Sephonei to walk beside her.
Abil stalked to Pery, muttering to himself. When he tried to grab for the bridle, Pery bucked. Ku-aya tried the same and was met with the same reaction.
Sitting high on Pery, Sephonei felt powerful and full of confidence. She sat straighter, and when she spoke, the words seemed to come to her of their own volition. Her voice seemed to echo. “I guess you’re walkin’!” She laughed. After weeks of taking orders and being teased by Abil, it felt good to have her say.
Ku-aya huffed, “This is ridiculous. That thing won’t allow us on. We need to go! We are wastin’ time.”
Semessa came to Ku-aya’s side. “Jump on. I will take you to Bentwood.” Semessa looked at Shantae. “You take Abil.”
Shantae grimaced, then slowly walked to Abil. He waltzed to her side, swung his leg over, and pulled himself up. He adjusted his position then dug his heels into her side and slapped her rear, yelling, “Heeeya!”
Shantae whinnied and launched him off. He flipped through the air and buckled, face-first, to the ground, getting a mouthful of dirt.
Shantae’s nostrils flared and her eyes were ablaze. “Ahh kuk. Don’t do that again, or you’ll be walking! I do not take commands, nor do I appreciate hard boots and a slap to my backside!”
Semessa pressed Ku-aya, “Control your man, or we’re out.” Then she looked to Shantae and said, “Let it go. Remember the deal.”
With Ku-aya on her back, Semessa turned and tore off eastward to Bentwood Forest.
Wind streamed through Sephonei’s aqua hair; her braid flowed in a straight line behind her while the pink ribbon fluttered.
After a full day’s ride, her legs and back hurt, and her face felt raw and wind-struck, but she did not want the day to be over. Pery had turned out to be a wonderful travel companion. It was like he read her mind. When something caught her eye, he would instinctively slow down or swoop closer to get a better look.
The day started out with the sun blazing overhead, but as they traveled further east, a darkness ate at the light. Bloated thunderheads stretched to the heavens, and bolts of lightning streaked the evening sky.
Bentwood Forest was ahead, and the storm was far enough away that she still had some time to fly—she needed to see it up close. She would scout ahead and see the treetops from above. Maybe she could glean some information to share with the troop. She had never seen a forest this size before, never mind flown over one on a peryton. She felt strong and confident. She leaned in and gripped the reins tightly, focusing on the forest below. Pery plunged, and they soared just above the treetops.
She heard chatters; birds squawked and tore through the canopy then dive-bombed back in. A wet, sticky mist hovered above the treetops and condensed on anything in its wake. It smelled of mossy earth and rot. The jagged, black limbs of the trees were bent and gnarled. Mossy, green vines clung together, knitting and interweaving just below the canopy.
Pery pitched right, and the large, blue mountains came into view. They stood tall, and the emerald forest climbed the face of the largest mountain. Sephonei caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Pery turned, and they descended. The treetops crashed and broke.
Something big was moving down there. A trail of large footprints descended from the mountains and led into the forest. What type of creature were those from? Pery dipped down and followed the wave of moving treetops.
The trees thinned, and Sephonei saw it. A massive creature with clumped, knotted red fur. It walked on all fours, leaning on its knuckles, with little regard for the huge trees that snapped in its wake. It was a large primate, like nothing she had ever seen before or read about in The Bestiary. Sephonei felt the urge to get closer, to trace the details of the creature with her mind’s eye, so she could draw it.
Pery swooped down and broke through a gap in the treetops to get a better view. She felt the intense heat of the forest. It stifled her breath. A muffled quiet took hold—the forest was void of sounds, save for the crashing knuckle-walker. Pery caught up to the ape and swooped just overhead. Where there was no fur, the blackened, rippled skin of the creature seemed to shine. Long strands of knotted fur roped together and waved as it walked, covering most of its body, save for the hands, face, feet, and belly.
The ape stopped and looked up. Sephonei reeled and yanked on the reins.
They were too close.
She yelled to Pery, “Up!”
The giant ape leaped and swatted at them. Its massive arms extended in an effort to grab them. Pery lurched back, extended his wings, and shot up, crashing through the tree tops. Cold, wet rain stones pelted Sephonei’s face and body. She struggled to open her eyes or call out. Brightness flashed and stole what vision she had.
BOOM!
Thunder broke the air right beside her. She released the reins and brought her
hands to her ears, tightening her thighs to maintain grip. She felt herself slipping and grasped for the reins, but Pery was already out of reach. Her body twisted as she dropped. She gained speed, the treetops screaming closer. She braced herself for impact.
She hit something solid with a thud and felt herself rising. How was she rising? She opened her eyes and saw the back of Pery’s head. His massive, golden antlers shone bright and reflected the storm around her.
She hugged his neck and gripped tight. “Thank you, Pery.”
Pery turned and headed to the edge of the forest where he dipped and landed. At the foot of the mountain, Ku-aya, Abil, and the sebtaurs had watched the whole ordeal.
Sephonei dismounted and fell to her knees. Her heart raced. She was thankful to be back on solid ground. The rain that pelted down didn’t even hurt anymore.
“What was that?” Ku-aya said as she raced to Sephonei.
Abil strolled over to Sephonei. “Ai, li’l fistler, I’ve upgraded you from Ninnyhammer to Pillock! You trying to get yourself killed over yon?”
Shantae raced to Sephonei and helped her up. She looked into her eyes. “You okay? What did you see down there?”
Sephonei gulped. “There’s a giant ape down there ahead of us. If we go into the forest, we’ll run into it. It’s at least three times my height, if not larger. It almost…” She let out a hard breath, “It almost got me.”
Ku-aya leaned in. “What were you doing that close anyway? Why did you go into the forest?”
Sephonei looked at Ku-aya and raised her chin. “I needed a closer look. I’ve captured everything on our journey so far in my sketchbook. I needed to see it up close. And I was scouting ahead, trying to find a passage.”
Ku-aya smacked her forehead with her palm, and she sighed. “Why me? Why my crew? Why this mission?” She turned and walked over to Semessa, who stood at a worn path that led up the mountain.
Abil slunk after Ku-aya and stood beside her as they planned the route ahead.
Shantae walked to Pery and stroked his neck. Sephonei read sadness in Shantae. At this point, the lines between aura-reading and being perceptive of people’s emotions were a blur for Sephonei. She just went with it.
“What’s up, Shantae?” Sephonei asked.
Shantae sighed but kept her focus on Pery. “When I saw you riding Pery high in the sky, you looked free. I…” She stole a glance over to Semessa then whispered, “Our deal with the Quartermaster is more like servitude than a deal. We are not free, and the requests are becoming more and more… I feel… I feel like a slave.”
Sephonei’s insides burned. “When you told me of your agreement with Balin, I sort of figured that out. I wanted to talk to you about it.” Sephonei lowered her head and closed her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“Eish, it’s not your fault. Semessa doesn’t want our tribe to leave this place. We are stuck here, for now.”
“I know how you feel,” Sephonei let the last word hang.
Shantae cocked her head. “What do you mean?”
“I’m in a similar position. I’m not a Crystal Hunter by choice. I was conscripted into service by Sin. He threatened to kill my parents, if I didn’t retrieve the Bloodstone for him.”
Shantae’s gaze became steely, and she furled her brow. “Ahh kuk. Sin needs to be taught a lesson in manners. His Crusaders too.”
Sephonei walked up to Shantae and said, “I promise that I’ll do what I can to help you. Once we have the Bloodstone and come back, I’ll do what I can.”
“Ha, that’s kif, Seph. You make me laugh,” Shantae said. “But I am not sure what an apprentice Crystal Hunter and three sebtaurs can do against the High Priest of Atlantea and his army of Crusaders.”
Semessa called over, “Shantae, let’s go.” Semessa nodded slightly in farewell then turned and raced back to the coast.
Abil and Ku-aya clambered up the worn mountain path.
Shantae turned to Sephonei. “Eish, I guess this is it. I’ll miss you, Seph.” She bent and hugged Sephonei, then she tore off behind Semessa.
Sephonei watched as the two sebtaurs raced back to the outpost. The rain continued to pelt down, and Sephonei was drenched. She looked to Pery. “I guess we’re grounded for now.” She whistled for him to follow then headed up the mountain trail, thinking about how she could help the sebtaurs.
ROEG
The Bentwoods
“H
urry up!” Roeg called back to Ookum as he ran with his shoulder hides pulled up over his face.
“I’m running as fast as I can,” Ookum clicked.
Tsisa shot past Ookum, her head down and her hands free as the rain pelted down on her. “Hurry up, Ookum Slowrunn’r.”
“Why is the rain hurting so much?” Ookum called out.
“Keep running!” Roeg hollered.
Tsisa crashed through the outskirts of the forest. “I win!” She raised her hands in victory. A lone raindrop tore through the air at an odd angle and splattered on her forehead. She winced and glared at the sky.
Winded, the three friends hunched under the tall canopy of the Bentwoods, protected from the rain.
“Why were…” Ookum paused to catch his breath, “the rains so hard? There was sun, then boom!” He clapped once. “The flashes came, then my face started to hurt.”
“It’s called a storm, dummy,” Tsisa said breathlessly. She walked around with her hands clasped over her head as she wheezed for air. “It’s so hot, I can’t breathe here. The air feels heavy.”
Roeg walked to the worn pathway and looked into the forest. A chattering sound came from above, echoing through the trees. The huge, gnarled trees were misshapen and bent at the limbs, and everything was covered in thick green hair. Roeg walked over to a large tree and touched the green hair. It was soft and wet—spongy, not slimy.
Ookum came over, “That is moss. Up in the Great Spirit Mountains, it grows on some trees. Unn showed me when we were collecting mushrooms.”
He tore a clump off the tree and rubbed it in his hands. His previously blackened hands were now clean. Roeg picked some off and did the same.
Aside from the greenery being different, this forest was thicker than the Whitewoods near the village. There were all kinds of large leaf plants on the ground, some as tall as him, and others larger. Above their heads hung thick rings of moss-covered, woven plant ropes. They didn’t look like part of the tree branches, but they hung off them. They were everywhere.
Glimmers of gray light struck through the green treetops above. Roeg strained his neck, trying to see the tops of the trees. The air was heavy and thick, and each breath he sucked in wasn’t satisfying; it only tired him.
“What is that up there?” Ookum clicked, as he pointed to the treetops where small, hairy beasts swung on the mossy plant ropes. “That’s what’s making the chattering noises. They look different than the treeclimb’rs in the Whitewoods.”
The Whitewoods had treeclimb’rs with brown fur and long reddish snouts. They would chatter and steal things if you left them unattended. But here in the Bentwoods, the creatures were bigger and had wide, round heads with far-spaced eyes. Their coloring was something Roeg had never seen before.
“They glow!” Ookum said. “They are the color of the sky, and they shine!”
“They have fur the color of coal underneath the blue,” Roeg noticed.
Tsisa instinctively lurched her hand back like she was going to throw her spear, but she realized there was no spear in her hand.
“My spear!” She looked around the forest floor. “Where’s my spear?” She walked to Ookum and searched around, scrutinizing him. She grabbed him by the collar of his hide coverings. “You have it, don’t you?”
He lifted his hands in the air. “I don’t have it! Look, I don’t have it.”
Tsisa released Ookum and snarled. She set her hands to her face and furled her brow. “I lost it back in the plains when the laughing dogs attacked…”
>
She kicked and rummaged around the forest floor, holding her hands to her hips.
“What are you doing?” Roeg asked.
“What does it look like?” Tsisa said.
Ookum shot in, “Cleaning the dirt from your feet? You know the moss would be better than the leaves for that.” He strode over to the tree, kicked his foot up on the trunk, and rubbed it.
She picked up a fallen, misshapen branch and chucked it at Ookum; he dodged it and released his foot from the tree with a wide grin. She growled. “I’m not cleaning my feet! I’m looking for a branch to make a spear, but none of these are any good. They are all bent and broken.”
A group of the chattering, blue treeswing’rs had gathered and watched from above. They pointed to the three and chattered—the more they chattered, the more of them came, until the treetops were painted blue.
Roeg looked up and his stomach knotted, his skin prickling. “Let’s move on. We need to move. Now.”
Ookum looked up and positioned himself behind Roeg. “I don’t like the way those things are looking at us.”
Tsisa picked up a rock and held it up. She made a menacing face at the treeswing’rs and growled.
They replied with an eruption of chatter.
“Back to back,” Tsisa ordered.
They stopped and stood with their backs together, facing out. More of the glowing beasts appeared, their numbers growing to the hundreds.
“They don’t seem friendly.” Ookum gulped.
Some of the treeswing’rs swung to lower branches, venturing closer to the group of friends. As they inched closer, they became agitated and aggressive. Ookum grabbed his sling’r but didn’t fire a shot.
“HRRRRAAAHHH” Tsisa yelled, trying to sound as fierce as possible. She held up her stone and threw it. It hit a large branch where a group of treeswing’rs perched. The animals wobbled and fell to the ground.
The chatter erupted again as the creatures tore at the trees and leaves; a rainstorm of debris dropped to the forest floor. Roeg heard a cry from behind him, whipping around just in time to see a blur of glowing, blue fur leap at him. The creature reached out for his Firestone, clawing at Roeg’s throat before erupting into flames.
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