The Questory of Root Karbunkulus - Quill (14 page)

“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.

Smack!

Bam! Bam!

The Swamp Pig stopped tugging and paused, a
look of complete shock on its face.

Whack! Bam! Smack!

The pig stooped back with a loosened grip
that allowed Root’s leg to begin squirming for escape.

Smack! Bam! Whack! Whack! Whump!

The pig all but fell to its knees, it’s eyes
dazed and batting.

Root jostled her leg free and scrambled to
safer ground. Lian’s reed-sleeve was left behind, hanging mangled
from one of the Swamp Pig’s tusks.

With nothing short of awe, Root and Lian
watched the Glawering’s lightning quick branch execute two more
blows to the Swamp Pig’s enormous head. Then the beast was gone,
staggering back into its cesspool, a whimpering, snorting stew of
air bubbles lingering in its descent.

It was a long time before the tremble of
their breath settled and they could be certain the monster would
not return. Root looked at Lian. Like her, he was coated in mire.
Even his eyelashes were green with it. She could see the rise and
fall of his chest, yet to recover. He didn’t smile but he did hold
something up. Something phosphoric and bloated, about the size of a
thumb with a tiny furrow of fluorescent fibers all along its
seam.

The Glawering’s seed!

A Glawering had moved over to allow Lian some
sunlight with which to perform his operation. It was intricate
stuff he was dealing with. Root had rarely seen him so focused. She
leaned over as he poised the Quantifier to insert exactly one
moment-spoonful of something bright red into the seed.

He stopped and looked at Root.

Oh. She stepped back, allowing the light to
reappear over his patient.

Lian resumed his position. Root couldn’t help
but lean in again to see what would happen as the needle slipped
ever so gently into the Seed’s end. And while Root was actually
wondering if it was the seed’s bum, something quite extraordinary
happened. The Seed coughed. And then it spluttered and sneezed and
went on like this for a few seconds before it finally stopped and
shook itself like a wet dog. When it had finished, it had fluffed
itself into a phosphorescent ball that reminded Root of the tops of
seeded dandelions. It had also managed to attract half the
Glawering who now bent and stooped and goggled and cooed and
practically fell over each other for a peek.

“I’m just gonna put it into this for
protection.” Lian held up a large whitish sphere that looked to
Root exactly like an eyeball. It even had a spread of red arteries
across it. A bloodshot eyeball. Lian gently put the seed into its
pupil. It was like crossing into a black hole. “This is the eye of
a Squalabee.” He said. Aha, Root was right! “Your seed will be
completely protected in there, won’t even scratch.”

The Glawering hummed in admiration and
approval.

“When we reach a clearing in a good patch of
soil, Root can release it.” Lian tapped a pocket of the travel
pack. A big, hairy hand with black nails came out, took the eye
from him and slid back in. A Squalabee hand?-Root thought with a
good dose of ick. What the heck else is in that pack?

The earth seemed to throb again, sending a
vibration of energy up from its core. Root’s skin and blood
tingled. She wondered if this was what a tree felt like as it
pulled the essence of life into its roots and up through its
branches. The Glawering arched their topmost branches. “Powerful
Natruid, for this we are eternally grateful. We offer you anything
within our power.”

When all the amber had slid slowly down the
heads and faces and backs and legs and hair and paws and scales of
its victims, and when hugs were had and licks reached the point of
no return and the animals of the wild had leapt to farther reaches
and one ginormous Tagit had tickled Root with its flickering tongue
and three Pink jaws had dropped, and the old inventor had recovered
his Tempometre, it was time to say farewell to the Glawering.

“Thank you so much!” Root hugged a tree and
allowed its crooked branch to wrap around her. She introduced Dwyn
who happily shook the Glawering’s branch.

Root laughed.

“What’s so funny?” he asked mid-shake.

“They’re wondering why you’re shaking their
noses.” She said.

“Oh.” Dwyn stopped. As he awkwardly stood
back, the swamp trembled with a deep, eternal moan.

“It’s okay’ Root said. “They’re
laughing!”

When Root pointed out their actual ‘hands’
Dwyn and Skubblenob took to them like guests meeting a bridal
party, filling each greeting with ‘glad to meet you, thank you for
saving us after you nearly killed us, do you have relations in
Perderly? And my, what lovely bark you have.’

Lian had simply bowed his head. He knew it
was only this respect, this deep, unwavering passion for all
creatures of Nature that gave him power and he held the
responsibility in reverence. He’d done nothing alone but with the
surging might of Creation itself.

Hilly Punyun, on the other hand, was held
back from kicking the tree that had held her hostage. “ I
oughtta…”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were…”

Too late. With a swift swoosh of a branch
Hilly Punyun was dangling.

When she screamed it was to be another fiasco
as the travel pack erupted with Lian’s Shrieking Shrub. It landed
with a splat around Hilly’s neck. Sharmay and Pidge tried a
desperate means of extraction but the thing simply would not
abandon its ‘mother’. Not this time. No way.

When Hilly finally accepted defeat, telling
the shrub she would love it forever (singing it, actually), she was
quickly dropped and led away by the other two thirds of her team.
Her guide, a very, very short gnome of a woman with a severe fringe
of hair across her forehead and glasses the size of plates sighed
and reluctantly followed. This was not at all what the brochure had
said, she thought. There’d been no mention of swamps and snotty,
rotten brats; only a chance for travel, to see the world. No
experience needed, all you had to do was squeeze the Beanbug if you
were in danger.

She was not pleased, especially having given
up Canonballing for this! She’d been on the verge of Canon Champion
with only one Baller to usurp, Charlebois McMissile, who’d been
shot nearly ten miles, straight across Lake Bigum.

But oh no, she had to listen to her sister.
Well, there would be hell to pay now.

Lian snatched his Shrieking Shrub and quickly
banished it with a ‘Bad plant!’ chiding into a much deeper pocket
of the travel pack.

“You can ride with us if you like, Hilly.”
Root reluctantly offered from atop the giant head of the Tagit.
Lining up behind her, along the great snake’s torso were the rest
of the Valadors and their rather uncomfortable Hovers, anxiously
looking forward to flight in the very near future. Chesterly was
already panting.

“I’m not riding that Thing! It’s disgusting!”
Hilly marched away stubbornly, color-coded disciples in tow. Her
guide paused, torn between the two. On the one hand she could ride
a real life Tagit! Not every day you get an opportunity like that.
On the other hand were three snotty, rotten princesses whose very
voices made her head grind, the ones who had led her into the glued
grasp of these frighteningly black trees in the first place.

She blinked back at her charges from the
Tagit’s back, a can-you-blame-me-shrug filling in the blanks.

Hilly humphed and kept marching, even as her
glittering ankle boots gooped heavy with mud.

“Suit yourself’ Root smiled as the Tagit
began a slithering departure.

“Oh and by the way, you’re welcome!’ Lian
added.

Hilly snorted into a crossed-arm snit with
her nose in the air.

Funny how the roaring snap of a vengeful
Swamp Pig along with a torrent of slimy green-black swamp water can
change one’s mind.

The Pinks were placed at the very back of the
Tagit, where they could be heard the least.

A clearing! A clearing! A beautiful sun
drenched perfectly golden and welcoming clearing! This could not
have come soon enough. Even the Tagit was relieved beyond joy for
now he could dump off the three pink things that had annoyed him
since first departing the Swamps.

Root leapt off the Tagit and stretched. Her
legs, her back, her neck, even her hair was sore. She’d been
clinging to the Tagit for so long she was sure she had stiffened
into a permanent stoop. They were, all of them a stark contrast to
the fresh ease of the meadow. Still sticky with amber, they hadn’t
eaten and from them came a sweaty stench easily eclipsing
Chesterly’s breath.