Sunborn Rising (19 page)

Barra’s arm swelled full of pain from her quickened pulse. The Listlespur squeezed shut her eyes again because her irises were sore, unused to the abundant light. It was then that she noticed a subtle but strengthening current pulling them down. Her eyes fluttered open.

Far below, a great silvery rope of a whirlpool twisted out from the trench wall. Debris swelled around the length of it, sweeping in and out from its center. The whirlpool was as thick as a pathwood, and streaks of colors from the environment were warped around it. It carved an arc through the water as it travelled from wall to wall, tugging at the bups as it went. The bups’ companions had to work to keep them steady until the whirlpool was gone.

Before any of them could breathe a sigh of relief though, the closest woods began to jitter. Barra’s heart thudded in her ears as she felt a new tug, much closer than the first. Abyssal animals of all shapes and sizes emerged out of the walls of branches. The sea creatures grouped together near the bups, and waited. It was becoming crowded, and the strength of the current was growing.

Red’s tentacles rippled like they were heat gradients rising off Barra’s back. They turned sideways together, angled away from the pull of the coming whirlpool. Blue was already horizontal, wings undulating, and Char was compressing and expanding in rapid waves to keep from being sucked away.

Another whirlpool came tearing through the far wall. The silvery rope spiraled toward them surrounded by debris, Abyssals shooting out from its turbulent core. The sea creatures came out fast, unharmed, and swam away. The gathered Abyssals suddenly flipped, and then flew toward the whirlpool one after another.

The bups followed.

They sped headlong toward the twister. Barra was too shocked to panic. She didn’t blink as they swam toward the chaos. They didn’t go straight in, they swam along it, spiraling around closer and faster until Barra was completely disoriented and they were sucked in.

The bups couldn’t see each other as they hurtled through the ocean. Their companions dampened the spinning to keep them from getting sick, but the whirlpool was still a bouncy ride. Accelerating through the ocean—blurring colors and shadows all around—they turned sharply down.

They travelled down for longer than Barra cared to think about, and then the ride ended. The bups were thrown from the whirlpool. As the dizziness faded and the twister pulled away from them, Barra saw there were magnificent coral structures floating around them. No branches. No roots. The corals were connected to one another by nets of vegetation, and fine, looping strands of metals that looked like delicate, miniature trees. There were sagging flotillas of foliage too, sheltering sea creatures unlike anything Barra had ever seen.

They didn’t get much time to admire the scenery because another whirlpool was already on its way toward them. More travelling Abyssals joined them and prepared to catch a ride. Same as before the bups didn’t have much choice, the jellies caught the current and swam them in.

Deeper and deeper they wound down into the ocean. They passed through the webs of sea spiders, around porous metallic islands, and among migrating coral belts. The light grew brighter and the water warmer, and they tunneled ever closer to the center of Cerulean. They caught another intersecting whirlpool and continued uninterrupted until they were finally expelled into limitless blue.

Barra was rigid, tense and scared. Red felt her tension and gave her a gentle squeeze, slipped a tentacle around her arm, and offered some pain relief too. Barra’s friends were receiving support too. Blue displayed a bright blaze for the Kolalabat to remind him to breathe, and color returned to his whiskers. Char was rolling Tory around like a ball to show him as much of the oceanic underworld as possible, and the Rugosic was beaming.

In the open water there were colorful far-off clouds, schools of Abyssals, and gargantuan silhouettes of creatures and structures the bups couldn’t understand. A belt of floating corals extended flat in all directions over their heads drawing a line in the distance like a horizon.

Red was intent on swimming even farther down through the incredibly warm water, but Barra wasn’t interested, not yet at least. After some effort, Barra managed to get Red to flip them over so that she could look up. Barra searched for a clear view through the orbiting coral, and as she watched, a natural break in the flow opened to her. The corals parted, and Barra’s heart sank.

There was nothing to see, nothing Barra recognized. No branches, no trees. Nothing familiar, at all. There was no Root. Not even a hint that the Great Forest existed. Nothing, but more water and the strange life and forms that inhabited it.

She didn’t know where home was, but she did know that it was impossibly far away.

20. The Drift

Swimming again, the bups and their jelly companions headed toward an enormous, pale-yellow drift that looked like a sponge made of bone. In actuality, the Drift was made of coral. As large as coral appeared floating in the near distance below them, it only seemed more massive as they approached. The bony surface was stippled with holes, Abyssals bustling in and out of the largest in seemingly endless streams. Each hole was an opening to a channel, and Barra imagined Abyssals travelling the entire length of the Drift from within. It reminded Barra of the Loft only much busier.

The Drift was caught in its own shadow, but the bups were gradually cresting the nearest craggy side. The mountainous surface was rimmed in light. As they came around, Barra saw the source of the white hot light and stared at it until her eyes hurt.

She’d never seen the Sun before.

Barra knew that she wasn’t staring at the naked Sun, but that didn’t make it any less inspiring. Instead, she was seeing the Sun through the Boil which created a much larger, diffuse false corona. Through the Boil, across the Void, and into the blinding the Sun according to the archives, but Barra didn’t really know what that meant. She averted her eyes, but the impression left on her was as indelible as the image of her father.

But as soon as it dawned on her, what they were witnessing—maybe the first Arboreals ever, Barra thought—it was taken away. No matter how hard she resisted, Red swam on, carrying her up to a well-used opening above a prominent ledge in the bony coral.

They entered the Drift.

The channel the bups travelled through the Drift split and intersected other channels at countless angles. Barra’s eyes relaxed in the dusky low light of the maze, but the channel
was
lit. Lined with reactive algae in shades of green, red, and brown, a fine circle of radiance burned into the wall of the channel wherever they were. The algae cooled slowly to dark behind them as they passed.

They were swift on their journey. They seemed to avoid the other Abyssals who were rushing through the channels, especially those who stopped to look. One seemed eager to follow, and they went even faster. Barra thought they must look pretty strange, as she tried to keep up mentally with their fast and winding course. When Barra’s internal map failed she started stressing, but Red comforted her with a few soft squeezes.

There were so many kinds of Abyssals. Shelled, finned, serpentine, many-limbed, colorful, and stealthy, they passed them all in a whir. There were even other jelly creatures, and though they shimmered greetings to the bups’ companions, they didn’t stop. There were occasional chambers lush with polyps and grasses, and gardens of flowers in bunches. They echoed life in the boughs, but Barra couldn’t identify any of them.

The channels narrowed and the bups and jellies were funneled into a single file line. Barra and Red took the lead. The radiant algae disappeared, replaced by rubbery, multi-fingered anemones. As the channel filled with anemones it became impossible to swim, but those same anemones began pushing the bups through. Finally, the bups and jellies were squished out onto the floor of a large cave, a cave filled mostly with air.

The round cave wall was stained by many circular bands that marked the stages of air replacing ocean, like the iridescent layers of a shell. The floor was grown full of slimy mosses and seaweed, and Barra squished some between her toes as she stood. The water came up to just below her waist. Red released Barra without warning, and shocked, Barra held her breath.

“Woo hoo! What a ride!” Tory exhaled, but then shrank away from his wet echo.

Barra was relieved to know she could breathe in the room, but still, she was scared. The jellies hovered on the surface of the pool, Red’s tentacles dragging over the water sending out tiny waves.

Several tense moments passed, and then Tory grinned big. “I said, WOO HOO! What a ride!” The Rugosic splashed over to Plicks and picked him up in a spray of water. “We made it!” he exclaimed, shaking his waterlogged friend. He tossed him up and down a couple of times, and then hugged him and set him down.

Blue’s cloudy whorls merged with the curling lip of his wings in a display that could only be interpreted as joy. He flapped at Plicks’ cheek, and the Kolalabat thought it felt like he was getting licked. “Ew! Hey, uh, no thanks. No!” He said as he tried to fend off Blue, but his giggling only encouraged the affectionate jelly. “What are you?” he asked, but his words were almost inaudible. Defending against another lick, Plicks turned to Barra, “What are they?”

Red bobbed up and down like she wanted attention and Barra reached out to her. She touched the top of Red’s bell-shaped body, and watched it spark beneath her fingers. Barra pulled away, unsure, but then Red pushed into her hand and began snuggling against it. As casually as she could, Barra switched to her other hand in order to keep her wounded arm hidden. She stroked the jelly and said, “I’m not sure. They seem really friendly.” She smiled, and Red shimmered and vibrated. The jelly produced a soothing, gurgling sound, and Barra whispered to her, “You like that, huh? You like that, don’t you, Red?”

Tory sloshed over to the wall, Char hovering close over his shoulder the whole way. Char projected his orbs out one at a time in a rapid cascade, stealing Tory’s attention. Tory examined the jelly trying to figure out how it worked and what it meant. Char shriveled away from the inspection like he didn’t enjoy the inspection. Having had enough, Char flashed his orbs out all at once, startling Tory who stumbled and splashed away. Tory eyed the jelly with suspicion. Char bobbed steadily, and seemed a bit smug. The Rugosic’s lips turned up in a wry smile. “Okay, okay. Very funny. Hang around if you like. I’ll get you back,” he added with a wink.

Running his fingers over the porous wall, Tory asked, “What is this place?”

“I’m not sure…” Barra’s voice trailed off. The pool of water at her feet began to bubble and rise, waves breaking against the walls.

Barra sloshed backward, tail raised. Tripping through murk, Tory and Plicks quickly spun round and put their backs against the wall, never taking their eyes from the water. And there, at the center of the pool, emerged a sinuous, many-limbed creature. Drooping cobalt blue whiskers sprouted from the magnificent creature’s snout as its head rose above the bups on a long arched back. Sickled fangs shimmered wet against its lips, and a pair of deep set, cloudy blue eyes looked out from beneath a rigid brow. The shining eyes locked onto Barra and seemed to smile.

“Hellooo?” The great seabeast’s voice did not project from her mouth which opened and closed in a rough imitation of speaking. Instead, her voice came from the entire length of her body vibrating. The sound reflected off the water and walls, filling the chamber, and somehow, it made the hollow space seem to grow.

Barra didn’t know what to say. She was stunned.

Silvery runs of water rolled down the creature’s slick ruddy-brown fur and trickled into the pool like dozens of miniature falls. Her eight arms fanned out from her back, four to a side, and were covered in shallow, tooth-rimmed cups. She stretched, her arms reaching, and practically divided the room in half. The submerged portion of her body slithered behind her, generating a steady flow of ripples.

Red, Blue, and Char exchanged flashes with each other, and with the glorious creature. The seabeast spoke again, drawing out each word, “You’re quiet, aren’t you? I suppose I should begin—I rarely have company. I’m Lootrinea. Welcome. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen an Arboreal in the Drift. The Nebules tell me they found you drowning in the Top Water?”

“The Nebules?” Barra asked. A nervy prickle spread out from her cut, and she twitched.

“Your friends there. They were excited to find you. Only the most adventurous of their kind play near the Root. It’s dangerous for them, Kudmoths feed on them like the Creeper feeds on light. Still, some stubborn ones like Red cannot be dissuaded.” Lootrinea gestured to Red, not without pride.

Barra asked, “Why’d they bring us here? Are you their leader? An Elder or something?” She was curious, but her questions came out like accusations. She badly wanted to scratch her arm.

“They brought you here because it is all that they know. I’m the only creature from the Trees living down here,” Lootrinea said. “I’m not an Elder,” she continued, “I’m merely a vestige of an old and forgotten way of life… tolerated because I’m quiet, useful because I know things no one else does. But I confess, I don’t know who you are.”

“I’m Barra,” the dripping Listlespur said as she shook water from her fur. Red hovered close, but as she was about to offer a soothing tentacle, Barra flinched away.

Tory saw Plicks chewing and clicking, and said, “That’s Plicks. I’m Tory.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Lootrinea said with kindness, but also with deference the bups were unused to receiving.

“You’re from the Trees?” Barra was skeptical.

“Yes, but that was before I became an Aetherial, long ago,” Lootrinea said. Plicks’ eyes almost popped out of his head, and his legs wobbled. “My home Tree was the Mangrove. Which is your home Tree?”

Barra answered, “We’re from the Umberwood.” A wave of dizziness passed over her, but she wasn’t sure if it was from her aching arm, or the awe that Lootrinea was an Aetherial. The bups stood there, mouths agape.

“The Umberwood. I used to know it well,” she reflected. The water vibrated, and the walls echoed, and the stretched tones were sorrowful. Her mouth continued to move out of sync with her words.

“What do you mean, you used to know it?” Barra continued, stroking Red who had flown around her, and was now draped over her shoulders.

“It was so long ago, I can’t say that I know it anymore, only that I knew it once,” Lootrinea said. She rose up into a regal posture, her eyes distant. “Before Argus and his Creepervine. Before the cycle of light was broken.” Lootrinea emitted a low, mournful howl and the chamber reflected it.

Char floated into Tory’s arms. Blue hovered low and close to Plicks, and Red squeezed Barra, hugging the Listlespur until the howl quieted to nothing. The sorrowful note lingered in their bones the way an afterimage lingers in the eyes.

Lootrinea said, “I’m sure much has changed. But enough of that, the three of you look like hope to my old eyes. What is your story?”

The bups climbed over each other verbally to tell the tale. Lootrinea listened intently, even as they bickered about the details, and she gathered that the young Arboreals had been through a tremendous ordeal. As they described finding each other again after the fungal-puppets captured them, the Aetherial noticed the bups’ energy ebbing. She interrupted, “Are you hungry?” Before they could respond, she plunged her suction-cupped limbs into the water. With a few deft grabs, she plucked a variety of slimy weeds and fronds, and even captured a few squirming slugs.

Plicks pushed his tongue out between his lips and grimaced, but he was too hungry to object. He leaned in to inspect the unusual food. His whiskers fluttering, he sampled the smells wafting from the fresh vegetables. When he caught the very edge of the first whiff, he recoiled in anticipation of something awful. He was wrong. The aroma was clean and sweet, and his mouth watered. The purple roots smelled like bolliberries crushed over creampods. Plicks ran a single extended talon along one of the roots, shaving a curl of slime from it. He sniffed the curl. Blue, who had been patient until then, smacked Plicks’ hand so that the curl jumped into his mouth. Flabbergasted by the rush of flavor, Plicks barely snapped his tongue out fast enough to keep from drooling. The slimy residue tasted better than any nectar he’d ever had. He sucked on his talon, trying to extract more flavor until he realized he could simply eat a whole root, at which point he snatched up several.

Tory dove into the flowers and roots with both hands, but hesitated when he came to the slugs. They were similar to woodgrubs, only bigger and slimier. The food was so good—and he was so hungry—that he grabbed one, closed his eyes, and popped it in his mouth. The slug was bitter and salty on the outside, but crunched honey-sweet when chewed. The combination was a fast favorite, and soon his mouth was full of squishy juices.

Barra chose not to eat. Red tried to lure her into sampling something, but the Listlespur refused to bite. She was uncomfortable and hot, agitated. Her arm pulsed.

When the other bups had filled their bellies, Lootrinea returned the rest of the food to the water. Feeling safe and satiated, the after-meal groggy friends loosened up, and continued their story. The time that passed was elastic, and not one could guess how long it took to tell it all.

“He tried to drown us!” Tory said when they got to the part about Fizzit, frustrated with Barra’s description of the three-eyed stranger.

“He saved us!” Barra yelled in Tory’s face.

“Only after,” Tory set himself up, “he tried to kill us!” he yelled. “You just couldn’t leave it alone, could you? We needed to get home, but
you
needed us to look into the water?”

Lootrinea watched the back and forth with grave swings of her head. Plicks was biting his lip but shuffling between the two regardless, gaining courage as he went.

“Right,” Barra said. “We shoulda left without ever seeing all this beauty. Shoulda just gone on walking through the fungus in the darkness. We were really getting somewhere then!” Barra was seething.

Tory shook his head. “You can’t make this my fault.” His voice was calm, uncharacteristically severe.

“It’s my fault? My fault that the Loft is dying? My father’s journal—”

“Your father?” Tory interrupted. “He didn’t know what was going on, and neither do you.”