The Questory of Root Karbunkulus - Quill (8 page)

“As Maven of Mystic Beings, I have had the
thrill and pleasure of studying many of DréAmm’s finest beasts.
Amongst them, the HaloEm.”

At this, the Imaginate roused and from its
centre, as if approaching from a far off distance the holographic
image of a creature grew before them, swelling larger and larger
until at last its magnificence filled the entire periphery of the
Imaginate.

Not even a devil of urban dwelling could
dismiss the beauty and majesty of this natural creature. Root lost
her breath.

What was it?

Inside the Imaginate the creature stood
still, its breathing sure and strong. Root took in the whole of it,
a regal white stag with an infinite spread of hauntingly beautiful
iridescent wings. Its silver eyes held within them a fury of
power.

“Yes, a beauty beyond fathoming.” Milwart
Ibbbs said at last. “Sadly the HaloEm are now extinct, the last
having been exterminated by the Murk Lord.”

Root’s heart caught fire as the words struck.
Kakos had slaughtered these? She could hardly breathe for the
dizziness of incomprehension. How? How could anyone do such a
thing? She gazed at the beast. Its wings shimmered prismatically,
glinting pinks and blues and reds. Casting light. And
innocence.

“The HaloEm, in their time were highly
revered, but only a most fortunate and select few had the honour of
their friendship. And an honour it truly was. One favoured enough
to experience the regard of the HaloEm as it lay its head upon
their shoulder, was blessed indeed.” Milwart Ibbbs had taken his
audience into his passion. His every word was embraced and he, for
the first in a very long time felt a spool of pride unwind and
thread through his veins. He looked at his son and recognized the
same fledgling joy. The Maven of Mystic Beings smiled and set his
jaw.

“And now, the artifact for the Second
Magisterial Treasure Quest of DréAmm!”

The Imaginate swirled, folding the HaloEm
into its neon clouds and replacing it with a new image. A gasp took
Root, Lian and Dwyn simultaneously. They recognized the object
immediately: as long as an arm with sparkling iridescent feathers
that seemed to have captured an entire light spectrum in their soft
firm plume. Each glittering strand stroked firmly along its
shimmering silver spine.

The Valadors were shocked. Stunned.
Stuttering in the revelation of the image before them.

It was their very own Pasting Quill!

The same of which was used to heal Root’s
Naskaw wound those many months ago. A gift of Martika and Alabis,
the Keepers of the Eidolon.

This could not be happening! The mysterious
artifact of Quest two was already theirs!

“The Quill of the HaloEm,” Milwart Ibbbs
impassioned, “is rare indeed. Not simply due to the HaloEm’s
extinction but because, during their living years the HaloEm rarely
molted with the exception of puberty. Any other releases would have
been a single Quill offered to whomever they deemed worthy.

“According to the Book of Sources, only five
HaloEm Quills are recorded to exist, some having been gifted to
favoured individuals. And there have, of course been no new
hatchlings.

“The acquiring of a HaloEm Quill was a
blessed achievement indeed for the new owner would receive benefit
of the Quill’s unsurpassed power in incredible strength and
agility.”

The Imaginate swirled again revealing a
beautiful young woman in a long dress made of the greens of the
earth; mossy, emerald, hunter, jade. Her hair flew back in a wind
of leaves and the ocean was living and surging in her eyes.

“Queen Shalayna,” Milwart continued “was one
of the rare few who sowed a deep friendship with the HaloEm. She
was the last to receive the gift of a Quill and though a potent
magician in her own right, this is the power that one drop of the
Quill’s spinal serum added to her strength.” Once again Milwart
referred his audience to the rolling offerings of the Imaginate.
“Where she could run, she could now outdistance a King Inx in the
zenith of its strength and vigour.”

The clouds of light sifted and rolled again,
this time capturing the impossible speed of Queen Shalayna along a
vast shoreline of the sea. She moved as if a wind god had anointed
her feet. An Inx, muscled, lean and throbbing in power held far,
far behind her.

“Where she could leap, she could overtake
even Dynasty Trees. And her strength was to become fathomless.”

The eyes of Milwart’s audience widened as the
queen sailed, weightless as an angel from treetop to treetop. In
the next image, her fingers closed around a single diamond and
opened again to a sparkling handful.

“Yet, perhaps greatest of all. Queen Shalayna
could soar.”

The woman leapt atop the luminous stag and
soon they were entering the Blue like welcome inhabitants, the
HaloEm’s sparkling wings beating a long, rhythmic pulse as the sun
moved to greet them and the world went silent. Root’s heart leapt
and her ears rang with the rushing of wind. She could feel the
lightness of her being, the spirit freed of its flesh. How she
longed to be that woman.

Milwart’s Imaginate shifted again.

“The HaloEm were worthy allies in the defeat
of Vor.”

Now the great beasts were seen armoured in
diamond-skin and battling scorched monsters, as the terror and hell
of war pounced upon the audience. Root found herself leaning back,
trying to escape the blood. She was well relieved when Milwart
brought the Imaginate back to the single feather, floating and
glittering, peaceful in a dazzling light.

This prompted the memory of the Keepers’ gift
and as Root caught the gleaming, knowing eyes of her teammates, she
could not believe their luck. They would have this race done the
same morning it started. She stirred, giddy in her seat as she
pictured the looks on the faces of her opponents.

The last parcel of Milwart’s speech was a
brief, yet intriguing study of the HaloEm; where they had lived,
what they had eaten. Root learned that the HaloEm were partial to
the native vegetation of their land and the frequent treat of
insects, in particular aphids. They preferred to sleep and mate in
cooler, well-protected areas that could not be easily penetrated,
such as caves.

Barring the acts of men, most notably Kakos,
who had hunted the HaloEm in a lust for power, the premature death
of a HaloEm was rare and only found in the acidic saliva of a long
haired Silverfox. Though the Silverfox kept mainly to feathered
prey along its modest size and stature, the unique venom of its
saliva could readily annihilate the wings of a HaloEm and therefore
its very existence.

Lian’s pen scurried furiously across the
pages of his journal, anxious to get in every syllable that sprung
from Milwart’s lips.

“But we don’t need it.” Root whispered.

“So.” Lian breathed back, still writing. He
was a Natruid to the core, giving anything that lived careful
scrutiny and with so little known about the HaloEm, this was an
educational bonanza.

Lian had many times tried to find books on
the extraordinary creatures but as they were such reclusive beings,
very little had been written about them. And then, of course, once
they had been declared extinct, one was pretty hard pressed to find
anything substantial outside of myth and legend.

A hand went up. This was unexpected. It
startled Milwart whose mouth went dry as flour, tipping him
dangerously close to geekdom again. He shuffled his papers
“Uh…yes?”

It was Kor Bludgitt. With a big fat wide
stupid grin on his face. “I’m just wondering, sir …how’re we
supposed to find something that’s extinct?”

The way he said it, all loaded with snotted
up little blades, it made Milwart fumble and drop his papers. The
crowd snickered.

Milden clenched his fists. His father had
been doing so well. But now he looked as if he would wilt and spin
down a drain any second. Curse that Kor Bludgitt!

Milwart Ibbbs had collected and was now
excessively shuffling his papers. “That’s a…that’s a good …a good
question…uh Mr. Bludgitt. The HaloEm are extinct, indeed but…as was
noted earlier, their Quills can still be found…if one…uh…if one
knows where to look.”

“So, where do we look?” Kor crossed his arms
and leaned back in his chair. His eyebrows raised in snide
expectation. He actually thought this would get him answers, as if
Milwart Ibbbs would simply toss out his theories like bones.

“Have you not been listening?” A deep,
brusque voice rose up. It was Lord Blick. He stood from his table
high up in the Grand Fire Blossom and hurled a dangerous glare at
Kor whose back instantly snapped erect. “Master Ibbbs has been
detailing the behaviour of the HaloEm for the past half hour. It
seems quite clear to me where one might begin to look.”

No one messed with Lord Blick. He had a
daunting way of ensuring that. And though most times his own son,
Lian detested this about him, in this moment Lian was rather
pleased that his father had the same effect on bullies like Kor
whose shoulders now hunched.

“Ahem…will there be anything else, Master
Ibbbs?” Studaben Picklepug had decided that he should intervene. It
was getting late and he had yet to speak with Baron Valteez who had
recently come into a substantial inheritance by way of his mother,
estate tycoon Empranza Valteez. The Guardian was eager to offer
condolences, which had an uncanny resemblance to tax incentives. He
shook Milwart’s hand and resumed his position at the podium.

“And now we have a very special treat for you
this evening…all the way from…”

A whisper from behind the curtain said

“Edmonville!”

“From Edmonville…here for your entertaining
pleasure, I am pleased to introduce the talented troupe of the Lord
Sclerous Players!”

When the last line was uttered and the Silken
Oxback crowned, the audience blinked, then applauded. It was over,
thank goodness!

“Actually it wasn’t that bad” said Dwyn. “It
was just the Oxback. He stunk. The rest were okay.”

The Oxback took his bows longer than anyone
else. Even as the lights were dimming, and the applause had been
spent he held out for an encore. Master Hillywur Gub finally forced
him off.

“Well now.” The Guardian reclaimed his
spotlight. “It seems we have come to the end of our festivities
this evening. Thank you, fellow supporters, friends and families.
Thank you all for sharing this momentous occasion. I will be on
hand for your inquiries and or interviews for the remainder of the
evening. And to the teams, if you have any questions, your new
guides will be happy to…”

Suddenly. the massive stained glass doors
swung open and there he was, as if by some special arrangement with
the stars, arriving perfectly on cue.

Ernest Skubblenob was muttering to himself. A
huge blinking contraption was on top of his head, practically
burying it, and his fingers were spidering over some sort of remote
control. When the startled room went silent, his words were given
clarity.

“Valadors” he said and at once Root’s face
turned the color of a beet. A mortified beet.

The old inventor, quite familiar to most in
the room, held out his remote and fumbled along, walking into
chairs, knocking off hats and unknowingly inciting a chorus of
amused laughter. He stopped at Kor’s table.

“Valadors?”

Kor scoffed. “Don’t look at me, old man.” He
pointed at Root’s table and as Skubblenob walked away he added.
“What? Did you lose them with your pants?”

Snorts of laughter. Root slunk lower in her
chair.

Ernest Skubblenob would not look up. He
hadn’t heard the ‘pants’ remark; being too focused on the
Tempometre’s readings. Though Tamik Chillenly helped him turn in
the right direction he continued to trip over everything in his
path. Eventually people would grab hold of his shoulders and guide
him along or simply move out of his way or tip the remote away from
them.

At last Ernest Skubblenob’s burning hand
pointed directly at the Valadors, now hidden under their table.
When they had no choice but to reappear it was only to see Ernest
Skubblenob suddenly fling the red-hot remote control from his
burning hands.

No one, not even Root could find pleasure in
what happened next. The scream was far too piercing, the tension
too taut. The embarrassment too fresh.

Hyvis Punyun leapt from her seat. Her throat
opened with such fury that the deadly shriek of a Pistol Crab lay
humbled. Upon her glittering, lavender haute couture gown there now
lay a searing burn mark the shape of a rectangle. Smoke was still
rising along its edges.

Ernest Skubblenob had retrieved his
Tempometre using the folds of his jacket and was apologizing with
great heaps of panic when the grand garden doors opened again.

Jorab strolled through the tables, a pair of
pants in his arms.

“Ah, you’re here. Splendid. Valadors, may I
present your new guide, Ernest Skubblenob.”

An emergency plan was definitely in order.
The Valadors met in Root’s room. She went straight for her closet
while her teammates collapsed, Dwyn on her bed, Lian on her new
chair, a spongy green thing, compliments of Estrella
Fuffleteez.

“I think I can safely say that my dating life
is over,” said Dwyn with a heaving sigh of resignation.

Lian just mmmphed. There was nothing that
could be said. Dwyn was probably right. No one in their right mind
would want anything to do with them now. Not when half of them got
third degree burns from playing a reluctant game of hot potato with
a red hot scorching
stupid
remote control for an even
stupider quasi invention
that doesn’t even work, not to
mention the
doltish helmet that fell forward blinding the old
man and sending him crashing into the Imaginate!!!