The Fiuri Realms (Shioni of Sheba Book 5) (11 page)

Such a wicked thought. She must never tell her Green Fiuri friends.

Behind, she saw the other Dragonfly bearing Iridelle and the two Yellow soldiers, coming after them. She knew they would not stop until they had put many, many wing-lengths between them and that monster.

She turned to smile unsteadily at Ashkuriel. “Are you alright?”

He nodded. “Broke my leg–lucky to still have the leg, by my wings.” He hissed softly around his tongue, “Shionelle … why? Don’t you hate me?”

“Ah …” she shrugged. “You’re just doing your job, Ashkuriel.”

“Being Tazaka’s thug, do you mean?”

Shioni grimaced, blushing to the tips of her antennae. Were her thoughts so easily read? If he was grateful for the rescue, that would revert to normal soon enough. Wishing to change the subject, she asked, “What was that thing, Ashkuriel? Do you know?”

He replied, “A Cave-Crawler.”

F
ROM THE CRACKS
to Green Cave Two was a single day’s flight, yet they entered a different world, a vast habitat of flowers and butterflies. Millions of butterflies of every conceivable colour and shape inhabited the long, winding tunnel, some so large, they rivalled the Vermilion Dragonflies for size. Each flock of butterflies sang their own song as they flitted from place to place. After they passed through the wards, they began to encounter the Fiuri herders of the butterflies–Green Fiuri with butterfly-like wings of their own, easily the most beautiful Fiuri Shioni had yet encountered. Their wing and body patterns appeared to have been crafted by an unknown artist; the greens picked out in gold, silver and platinum highlights. Many Fiuri rode the larger butterflies, and spoke a language of clicks and whistles with their mounts.

Now Shioni felt more colourless than ever.

“The butterfly caterpillars of Cave Two make the best silks and fabrics in the Caverns,” said Char. “These are the master weavers and herders of the different butterflies.”

Shioni, who had managed to keep her tongue rolled up for once, smiled at Char. “And what are they taking from their mouths?”

“Food,” said Char, making a face. “The butterflies regurgitate a kind of curdled nectar-milk which these Green Fiuri just adore. It’s vile. But the milk does appear to have certain medicinal properties, if you can stomach the taste. Here.” He whistled sharply to attract the attention of a nearby butterfly-rider. “Could you spare a chunk of milk for this little petal, my friend? She’s never tasted butterfly milk before.”

A chunk of milk? A
chunk?
Shioni wrinkled her nose, but declined to correct Chardal. She did not want to make another entry in his bulging notebook.

The noble Green inclined his head. In a fine, ringing voice he said, “Gladly shall I bless you, little petal. May Zurriol’s milk ignite your true Colour.”

Shioni giggled, “How I wish it would! Thank you.”

“What age would you like?” he inquired.

“Er … age? What’s best?”

“The older the better,” he said, scowling at Chardal, who instantly stopped chortling in the background. “The taste becomes richer and more piquant with age.”

“So the milk is matured in the butterfly’s stomach?” asked Shioni.

“Indeed–in a special, secondary stomach, a process which may last up to three orbits.”

Char made a muffled choking noise.

She bowed from the saddle, touching her antennae in a gesture she had learned from Lifirielle. “May I be so bold as to ask for your oldest? It would be an enormous honour, ah–”

“Exalted Butterfly-Master,” whispered Chardal.

Shioni repeated this honorific, earning herself a delighted smile. “Quite the petal, aren’t you?” murmured the Green. “Zurriol, the Fiuri child pays us great respect.” And he whistled his commands to the butterfly.

Ashkuriel, who was now sharing a seat on their Dragonfly, had turned to observe this exchange. He said, “Shionelle may appear small, Butterfly-Master, but two days ago, she single-handedly pulled me out of a Cave-Crawler’s mouth when it ate my Dragonfly. I broke this leg–” he indicated the clear cast covering his leg from ankle to thigh “–but I live to tell the tale.”

The butterfly made heaving motions of its abdomen, as if preparing to vomit. Reaching into its mouth, the Green Fiuri produced a neat handful of a sticky, orangey-yellow substance.

“Oh, it’s cheese!” Shioni exclaimed.

Behind her, Chardal’s notebook rustled.

But the Butterfly-Master gasped and growled, “How do you know the secret words of the butterfly-kind, little petal?”

Shioni paused in the act of accepting the gift. “I’m sorry, Butterfly-Master, but I have amnesia. I could not say. But if I know one of your secrets, do you think I could be one of your people?”

His large, shimmering green eyes looked her over from her antennae to her toes. Taking in her four wings, the Butterfly-Master’s frown deepened. “You’re no Fiuri of a cave I know, little petal–unless your wings are a natural mutation. Four wings and a white colour? This is a mystery only the mightiest of Blue Fiuri ward-workers could fathom, I fear. Here. Taste and enjoy Zurriol’s gift.”

How did she know about cheese? The full-bodied smell that greeted her nostrils as she took a curious whiff of the substance which now filled her hand, transported her to another time and place. She saw strange creatures gathered around a rough wooden table, laughing and singing together, the sounds alien to her ear. Bread and goats’ cheese, she thought.
Ayb,
a word from her past which described a certain kind of soft cheese …

This cheese, though, was a thousand tastes in one, smooth and infinitely creamy, so intense that it made her tongue quiver and her lips pucker in startled delight. Shioni could only nibble a tiny piece at a time, because the taste was the essence of glory, making her heart palpitate and her wings tremble uncontrollably.

“Good?” inquired the Butterfly-Master. Shioni turned such a look upon him that the Green Fiuri began to gurgle with laughter. To her surprise, his butterfly Zurriol began to laugh too, a tinkling sound like a cascade of tiny crystals sliding over a smooth surface. “You did request the most aged of all …”

Viri prodded her in the ribs. “Speak, Shionelle!”

Phweep!
She hiccoughed.

Everyone laughed; Shioni felt heat rising toward her antennae. “Well, you try–” she clapped her hand over her mouth as a squeaky, breathless voice emerged.

“As powerful as one of my Dad’s nectars!” said Viridelle, proudly. “Speak up, little petal.”

“You mean, ‘squeak up’,” Char grinned.

“Very funny,” Shioni peeped, and ended in a fantastically soprano chirp of rage, “Oh, this is ridiculous!”

After Shioni finished thanking the Exalted Butterfly-Master for his gift, the remaining Vermilion Dragonflies of Ashkuriel’s party set out for Cave One, properly called Green Central. They stopped at a large blue water bubble to clean off the dust and grime of the Cracks, before settling down for sleep in a patch of hammock flowers which were expressly provided for the use of travellers. A Green Fiuri flower-keeper offered them refreshing nectars–imported from the Nectar Guild of Cave Seventeen, Spinward, Iri declared excitedly pointing out the family’s flower-crest on the gourd–and the services of a group of Fiuri youngsters to brush down and polish the Dragonflies.

As the flowers and plants brightened into daytime, a patrol of fifteen Vermilion Dragonflies, each loaded with five Yellow Fiuri soldiers, surrounded them. The Captain of the dazzle saluted them crisply. “Escort from Lord Tazaka, Commander Ashkuriel! You will hand the prisoner over to us.”

Ashkuriel scowled, “I will take the prisoner to Lord Tazaka personally.”

“You’ve done enough, Commander. You may return to–”

“
Captain
Hazzuriel!” Ashkuriel’s roar cut off the other soldier. “Do you disrespect my rank?”

Shioni stared from one to the other. Hazzuriel was younger, but no less hard-faced than Ashkuriel. She would not be surprised if he sharpened his teeth on crystals every morning, because when he smiled, it was to display a perfect row of needle-sharp fangs, quite unlike anything she had seen in a Fiuri before. Next to her ear, Chardal whispered rapidly, “They’re Tazaka’s personal guard, Shionelle. I’d say it’s an honour, but worry as to why Tazaka thinks you merit this kind of attention. Ashkuriel outranks him, but Hazzuriel has the reputation of being a larva-killer.”

Hazzuriel’s bulbous yellow eyes fixed on Shioni. “Why is the prisoner not wearing a wing-harness?”

Ashkuriel snapped, “I’m quite capable of handling a mere child!”

“Yet you lost two Vermilion Dragonflies and five soldiers crossing the Cracks. We’ll escort you in, but I will see that prisoner properly secured before we enter Central, Commander Ashkuriel.”

“Very well.” Ashkuriel nodded stiffly. He raised his hand. “Secure the prisoner.”

Iridelle folded her massive arms and glowered at the Yellow Fiuri Captain. Shioni wondered, with an inward giggle, if her friend was planning how many of Hazzuriel’s teeth she could punch out with a single blow.

“Shionelle, you’ll need to fold up your wings, like this,” said Viridelle, helping her. From the corner of her mouth, she muttered, “What’s the matter with Ashkuriel? Just when I think he’s a Black Fiuri, he’s acting nice. It makes my wings itch like the worst allergy in the history of Fiuriel. Something about all this is a great big, unseen Stink-Flower. Keep your antennae sensitive, alright?”

The White Fiuri nodded unhappily as Viri helped her slip into a sleeveless jacket made of a tough, fibrous material, which entirely encased her folded wings but left her arms free. Even worse, there were further, strong straps which buckled over the back, around her shoulders and neck, and also around her ribcage. She heard the click of locks. Unless someone unfastened her, she was as stuck as a Fiuri in a Glue-Slap plant.

Ashkuriel handed a set of keys to Hazzuriel with a glare that could have curdled nectar.

Shioni rolled her shoulders. “Viri, that feels horrid. My wings–”

“Sorry, darling petal. I know.” Unexpectedly, Viri kissed Shioni’s forehead and rubbed antennae with her. “I hate to do this to a friend. You’ll be alright. I promise.”

And Viridelle was a tough Hunter? Shioni had a funny, choked feeling in her throat as Iridelle boosted her into the saddle and clipped and locked her into place, drawing an approving grunt from Hazzuriel. Had she been secured like this, Ashkuriel would be dead right now. The feeling was odd, and the sensation of her wings being trapped, utterly hateful. Why restrain only the wings? Why not her arms and legs? Was that because the Fiuri believed she would never be able to run away?

As they approached Green Central, she learned why.

The Fiuri stood at the nexus of ten major tunnels, which interconnected and wove together in a complex, very organic pattern. It took her some minutes to understand what she was seeing. What Shioni had taken for supporting struts, similar to Sherfiuri Ball, were in fact gigantic branch-like structures that spanned the tunnels from side to side, a latticework of a dark, grainy brown material akin to wood. Tiny black dots resolved into the doorways and portals of Fiuri homes, businesses and dwellings, carved into the great latticework. Shioni caught her breath. This place dwarfed Sherfiuri Ball. The Vermilion Dragonflies seemed like motes of dust as they flew rapidly into the vast city, and her neck ached once more from twizzling about to take in all the sights.

“That’s where we’re going,” said Chardal, pointing over her shoulder. “The Halls of Endless Light.”

One strut was not woody. It was crystal. A graceful, almost translucent green crystal spar joined the sides of the cavern from which all of the tunnels depended. It was many times again the size of the brown spars, each of which housed thousands of Fiuri.

Shioni’s antennae tingled. Her throat felt as furry as the sponge tunnels they had passed through. That was the place where, she sensed, she would remember.

Hazzuriel’s escort directed them to the largest opening on the crystal spar, a great portal easily wide enough to accommodate their entire dazzle of Vermilion Dragonflies. Here they dismounted. Flanked by several dozen Yellow Fiuri soldiers, Shioni marched through a series of gleaming hallways, following the sound of beautiful, triumphant music which sounded like crystal trumpets voicing the song of stars. Ranks of Green soldiers five deep and fifty long flanked the circular, gemstone-lined entrance of a hall so enormous and gorgeous, Shioni rubbed her aching breastbone. The light! The colours! All around the chamber, different sculptures and statues lined alcoves in the walls, each wondrously crafted in gemstones and other sparkling materials, each giving off its own radiance. Before her, a long, translucent walkway arched delicately over the yawning chamber to a central dais, which was surrounded by a great cloud of Fiuri nobles wearing gorgeous, shimmering costumes, resembling butterflies as they fluttered in place.

Suddenly, the crystal trumpets ceased playing.

A huge, richly robed Green Fiuri lifted a crown of pure diamond, which caught the light behind him, creating spangles and rainbows of light all around the chamber. Before him knelt a small Blue Fiuri, the train of her gown a hundred Fiuri paces long.

Realisation struck Shioni with the force of a rampaging Cave-Crawler.

“And so, I have the pleasure of crowning our new Queen–” the massive Fiuri paused for effect, beaming at the great throng of Green Fiuri.

Shioni shrieked, “Azurelle!”