The Questory of Root Karbunkulus - Quill (22 page)

CPR heard a noise. She pricked her ears and
opened her eyes. She saw the dark figure standing and instantly got
to her feet.

Root and Lian woke with hearts pounding.

CPR’s growls had grown into roaring snarls
and snaps. She was fumbling and crashing into everything around
her. Something was trying to escape from her. Or rather someone.
Root ran to her and pulled her away.

And that’s when she saw him.

With the Brotswin in his hand.

“Dwyn!” Root cried in disbelief.

Fortunately, sleep had given the team enough
of itself to think clearly and this meant acknowledging the
unhealthy nature of the Brotswin. There was no point in blaming
Dwyn. He’d given in to its temptation just as they had.

Although Root felt the Sage Mother’s
intentions had been kind, that she had only wanted Root to find joy
in the memories, perhaps the past was best left forgotten. At least
for these three. Or maybe the timing simply wasn’t right and there
would be a day when they could look at these images without the
pull of longing to keep them there, content to let the rest of
their lives slip away. At any rate, Root and Dwyn let Lian wrap the
Brotswin in a sealed container that he then charmed only to open
under the intention to sell it, which is what they had decided to
do, once they were in Divit.

“What did you see?” Lian asked once the
Brotswin was tucked away in a compartment of the travel pack and
they were snuggled in a warm pile of Hovermutts around a newly
bolstered fire.

“ Nothing.” Dwyn said.

“Nothing?”

“Just a…a kitten.”

“A kitten?”

“Yeah.” The forced indifference of Dwyn’s
voice made it obvious. He could pretend all he wanted but he too
had felt it. The pull of something bigger than him. He had grown up
lucky, in the kindness of an exceptional orphanage but nothing
prepared him for the fierce warmth that struck his heart first
glance. A kitten of all things. What was the significance, he
thought. How could he possibly feel such love? How could he have
survived so long without it? And then he felt the pain of not
having it anymore. A pain he’d long buried. “I wish I hadn’t
looked,” he said under his breath.

On the third day past the day that was…ahem….
supposed to be the day they would arrive, even the berries had run
out.

Walking had shifted into staggering.

The acid of their stomachs was revolting,
sending waves of nausea throatward. Concentration was a joke. For
all their numb brains knew they were lost and ‘getting loster’.

Please, please, please
became the
catchphrase.
Please water, please food. Please, please, please
let us not arrive at the Twal Desert… let it be the great sea, our
passage to Divit. And survival. Pretty please…let us live…

A very large, very beaky bird was enjoying
the mid afternoon sun sitting on a rock in a vast meadow at the
edge of the forest. It had been a quiet day. The heat had made it
so. Most anything of life was sleeping heavily under anything of
shade. Not so for the bird who thrived in the bright solitude.

That is until three dirty bi-peds and their
dirtier Hovermutts sluggishly made their way into its vision. It
was hoping to be ignored but suddenly one of them pointed at it and
spluttered “Sea Wing!” And then they all started a sloppy run
toward it.

It was extremely rude and the Sea Wing would
have nothing to do with such ill manners. It opened a pair of wide
wings and took to the sky, expecting to circle around until they
left.

But still the fools chased, hollering and
whooping like its boorish cousin the crane.

Enough of this, it thought and with a great
flap turned for home. Surely they wouldn’t be able to follow it
over the cliffs.

The large, beaky bird dove. And
disappeared.

If it had turned back to look, it would have
seen its chasers arrive at the cliff’s edge cheering madly as if it
were a celebrity. But it didn’t look. It simply swooped and looped
the heavens, joining its mob of cousins, hundreds of them, in an
orchestral cawing of salt and wind.

The Valadors fell to their knees.
Thank
you…thank you…thank you…

It had been such a long, long, thirsty, hot,
journey. And now stretching out before them, too immense for
comprehension, was not the Twal deserts as had been feared, but the
glittering sea! The glittering, sparkling, wet, wet sea in all its
turquoise infinity. A cloud of Sea Wings hung above it, their song
claiming the sky.

“We did it!” Root fell on her back, sponging
up the mist that rose over the cliff. She stretched out her tongue
to catch its cool, salty spray.

Yes!

Pilsnips had found it on their descent. A
leak in the cliff’s side. And now they all Hovered to it, taking
turns pressing their lips to its gorgeous liquid life, gulping,
sucking it in. The cool, fresh water seemed to fall from their
throats directly to their feet as if their insides had wasted away.
It took a long time to hydrate, to plump up what had shriveled. But
they were in no hurry.

On the beach, under Lian’s direction, they
gathered Dimplings. The squishy, sea-bleached leftovers of the Sea
Wings were evidently loaded in nutrition and thankfully littered
across the shoreline. They popped in the mouth with ease, offering
a juicy, meaty burst of tang. Root loaded her cheeks and went for
more.

Everyone, Hovers and CPRs included took
respite in the shaded belly of a Behemoth clamshell. A breeze as
refreshing as hope swept in and out and in and out…

The Bellatonian forest receded back into the
stuff of dreams.

After a brief interaction with the broken
Road, indicating that there could possibly, maybe- maybe not, be
two routes to Divit both of which were ambiguously described as
“…several jaunts…wind…sand fleas…” the Valadors realized they had
to decide on their own. It made sense that, of the two routes, one
would be along the shoreline and the other across the sea. Root and
Lian settled on route two, across the sea. It would be a lot
faster. But Dwyn was adamant that following the shoreline was the
way to go. Safer for one thing. His teammates knew it was his fear
of the water but pointing that out was asking for a fight. In the
end they resorted to the choosing of lots.

Lian won.

He buffered Dwyn’s immediate panic by sharing
the delightful properties of an Ekladian sponge. It sucked up the
salty seawater and, when squeezed, sprang forth a stream of
condensed pink nectar.

“Hey, that looks like the stuff that
Bumplekins gave us!” Root said.

“It is.”

Dwyn calmed down a bit. Their stay at the
great Natruid’s secret cottage had been so many months ago, and yet
he hadn’t forgotten how the hair had raised across his skin at his
first sip, the way his blood emboldened and he felt like he could
run the whole of DréAmm.

Lian offered the first cup to him.

Dwyn caved. You just can’t stay mad at Lian
Blick, with his big, goofy eyes all friend-y and peace offering.
Besides, it wasn’t Lian’s fault that he was a big, fat water
chicken. He accepted the cup, hoping it would stop the trembling in
his stomach.

Half out to sea the first inklings of doubt
crept in. It was taking way longer than they had expected. And now
the sun seemed to be draining away into a red whirlpool at the
horizon. At first they hovered close to the water but a strong wind
came in and with it an upsurge in waves that could easily swallow
one whole. The sky remained faithfully clear so there was no
concern for a storm, thank goodness. But still, the swelling of the
sea was danger enough. The team took the Hovers to maximum height,
enough to slip most of the wind and wave’s collision. How long it
would last was anyone’s guess. One thing was clear, however,
darkness wasn’t going to wait to find out.

Dwyn said nothing. The white of his knuckles
said enough.

A mere vein of sun streaked across the
horizon now, with the same bloodshot red that rimmed the eyes of
its weary travelers. They should have rested. Even stayed a night
on shore first. But who’d’ve thought it would take this long? They
would never have made the Hovers travel this if they’d known it was
so far. Lian chided himself. He should have known better. His eyes
were stinging with salt. Nothing could be seen of land. Root’s
fingers were cramped from clutching and the Hovers were beyond
exhausted. What were they thinking?

Lian was so deep in his thoughts he didn’t
see the wave.

And then he was gone.

“Lian!” Root screamed as she saw him and
Pilsnips disappear under the wall of water. She and Dwyn raced over
but the wave was gone, back into the belly of the ocean, their dear
friend with it. Root looked at Dwyn. His eyes were saucered, his
face pale.

“I’m going in!” Root said and gestured Stogie
closer to the water where she could spring board off. CPR squirmed
as Root tried to steady herself. “No, CPR! You stay!”

Before Root could say anything further a
splash rose from the sea.

“No!”

In the dwindling light all Root could see was
Dwyn’s dark streak. Deeper he went until he too was swallowed in
eternal ocean. She held her breath. Her eyes darted about,
searching for movement. Her heart thumped in her ears, a distorted
counting of seconds that felt like hours.

A fountain of spray rose high in the air to
her right and Lian appeared flung over the back of a dolphin. Dwyn
had done it! A full underwater Molding! Root grabbed Lian and
pulled him up coughing and sputtering for breath. “Pilsnips.” He
rasped.

Dwyn sunk back into the water. Again Root
raged against time as she kept one eye on Lian and the other on the
rolling watery hills. Her own breath escaped her as she imagined
Pilsnips under the….no! He has to make it!

Another streak of silver. Dwyn was leaping
through the waves, searching.

Oh, please, god. Please let him be okay!

A wave broke open. “Pilsnips! Dwyn, he’s
there!” Root pointed at the great paws thrashing, the whites of
Pilsnips eyes stricken with terror. And then he was under
again.

“No!” Lian screamed. “Pilsnips!”

Dwyn dove.

He came up empty. He dove again. Root watched
his silvery body get slower and slower. He was exhausted. But he
dove again, deeper. Root scanned for life. The sea was dappled in
remnants of sunset, red on red on black. Nothing broke it up.
Nothing moved for so bloody long. Her eyes stung with tears.

Dwyn finally surfaced and pushed himself
toward them, the silver of his body leaving him. His eyes were
filled with despair. “I can’t hold the Mold. I can’t…”

His eyes met Lian’s. Nothing could be said.
Nothing.

Time cannot be measured in the seize of
anguish. It really does stop. As does sound. All that exists is a
desperate plea from behind the eyes. A fending off of truth and
torment.

The only thing that starts the clock again is
time itself.

Or a miracle…

“What’s that?” Lian lifted his head.

They turned.

It was moving very fast. Straight for
them.

“Get on Hana!” Root yelled at Dwyn.

“But Pilsnips!”

“He’s….gone, Dwyn. Get on.” Lian cried.

Dwyn struggled. He was still slippery and
couldn’t seem to get a grip of Hana’s fur. His eyes were blurred
with tears.

The roar of the creature was so loud, they
all jumped. It raised itself and caught the first of the moonlight
upon its head, an ancient thing, lined in years with a snapping set
of powerful jaws.

“Woah, Corky!”

Entirely unexpected. A woman’s voice.

The team rose up, seeking the safety of the
sky. From here, in the moon’s bright glare, they could see the
beast. Water plowed away as it surfaced completely. Root caught her
breath. Spanning the entire area below her was a round shell the
size of a colossal swimming pool. A pattern of thick purple design
curled all across it, culminating at the head, which was strapped
in brown leather. It was a tortoise! And what was more surprising
was that in the centre of the tortoise’s shell, shaking and panting
and looking incredulously tiny was none other than Lian’s beloved
Hovermutt, Pilsnips.

“This yours?” the unfamiliar voice spoke
again. It came from a woman propped up in an enormous floating
carriage. She was clothed in what looked to be waterproof paper
bags. On her head was an old aviator looking helmet and goggles.
She had long white hair that whipped in the wind like foamy
waves.

It took awhile for the Valadors to feel ease
enough to lower back toward the water. It wasn’t that the woman was
dangerous. Indeed, as a series of questions quantified, she was,
astonishingly an old friend of Lian’s mother, having had the
remarkable knack of recognizing Estrella’s genes in Lian’s face.
Her name was Miss Haverly Sintamore. And, as was stated, it wasn’t
Miss Sintamore that was questionable. It was Corky, the gargantuan
tortoise that made any acquaintance rather challenging. A
gargantuan, not to mention purple tortoise is not something one
befriends everyday.

“Aw, he’s a Dimpling! Ain’tchya,
Corkster?”

The giant mouth of the giant beast let out a
giant roar.

Pilsnips rose into the air. Lian leaped upon
him and squeezed his ‘big boy’ with all his might. Once convinced
Pilsnips was okay, he looked back to the woman. “Thank you. So
much.”

“Don’t mention it. Glad to have been of
service.”

“So, how do you know my mum?”

“My dad commissioned her for some art work.
Years ago. We became fast friends, your mother and I. And haven’t
you just grown into her spitting image, uh? Though y’got your dad’s
ears I see.”