Moving off through the trees, they soon left the valley in the forest behind, with its legacy of confrontation and capture and the still smoldering wreckage of the doomed AAnn shuttlecraft. A riot of uninhibited color and explosive growth filled in the gap behind them, engulfing them all once more in a sea of inscrutable, impenetrable greenery.
Chapter Seventeen
By nightfall they still had not found a suitable site to spend the night, nor had the relentless and determined Lord Caavax called a halt. It was left to the trio of soldiers in the lead, who had been reduced to using their portable beams to find their footing while Teal picked her way along easily without the aid of artificial lighting, to protest. The branch they were currently traversing was narrow, the upper surface of the bark slick and treacherous. If the continued safety of those following was to be assured, they would have to stop until morning.
Caavax was forced to give in. “Sysumeq. We will spend the night here.”
Teal inveighed immediately. “We can’t stop here, out in the open like this. We must find shelter from the night-rain and those who hunt in the dark.”
The aristocrat was not moved. “Our suits provide adequate insulation from the nightly downpour, and AAnn soldiers are quite capable of dealing with malevolent primitive life forms. As for you, I am afraid you will simply get wet.” He peered over the side of the branch.
“I happen to like this location. The branch on which we are stopping is quite narrow and there are no strong vines or creepers within human reach. Beneath us lies an impressive drop-off. I do not think you will try to use the darkness as cover for an attempted escape. Behave yourselves and we shall all greet the dawn together.”
Teal pulled Dwell and Kiss close. “It’s not good for children to be out in the night-rain.”
The AAnn noble was unmoved. “They will not melt. Find some leaves or something with which to shield yourselves.” His voice was thick with fourth-degree irritation.
That night there was no rain delay. The instant the last vestige of yellow-green light seeped into the rising mist, it began to pour. Thunder rattled the branch on which the travelers crouched; the soldiers squatting inside their camouflage suits, Teal and her children huddling as best they could beneath their water-repellent green cloaks. Only Flinx was in danger of a drenching.
Somewhere nearby, lightning struck a stormtreader tree and the smell of ozone stung everyone’s nostrils. Someone cursed in guttural AAnn. While not literally translatable, the sentiment would have been recognized by the soldiers of any combative species.
Teal singled out a large epiphyte that grew from a smaller, overhead branch, identifying it for the AAnn aristocrat. “That is a brorobod. Let me gather a few of its leaves for Flinx. Do you want your valued captive to catch sick and die?”
Squinting against the rain, Caavax consulted with the field officer before granting permission. “Go ahead, but be quick.” Scaly fingers curled firmly over Kiss’s right shoulder, the claw points digging into the skin. The little girl winced but said nothing. “I know you will return with harmless leaves and nothing more.”
Teal looked significantly at her daughter, who stood silent and wide-eyed in the grip of the AAnn. Had she told her not to breathe, Flinx was convinced the girl would have held her breath until she passed out. In the green wilds of this world, children were doubtless taught early on that the ability to remain motionless often translated into continued survival.
Flinx watched as Teal jumped to grab a looping, dangling vine. Climbing several meters hand over hand, she swung one leg over the branch above and was soon straddling the wood in front of the flowering brorobod. While Caavax and several of the soldiers kept their eyes on her, she removed several of the plant’s large, glossy leaves, twisting them in both hands until they snapped off cleanly at the base.
“Look at this.” Idle, damp, and unable to fall asleep so early in the evening, one of the lead soldiers was beckoning to his companions.
The object of his attention was a cluster of powder-blue, bell-shaped blossoms that hung straight down from the underside of a man-sized mossy mass. They were attached to the parenting body by bright red stems no thicker than common sewing thread. As the darkness deepened it became possible to see that the flowers emitted a natural blue phosphorescence. Close to the blossoms it was bright enough to read by.
“Attractive,” commented the field officer from his place on the branch, “and useful. Should strange sound or movement strike in the middle of the night, we will not need to use our portable beams to see that which may be moving about near us.”
Indeed, by the time Teal returned, having dropped the thick leaves down to Flinx, the natural blue glow had greatly intensified. It provided enough light for the soldiers in front to see all the way to their colleagues farther down the branch. The field officer was delighted.
Grounding the stalks of the leaves as best she could, Teal constructed a crude and none-too-stable lean-to on the exposed branch. Together the four humans huddled beneath the imperfect roof. With no green cloak to shed secondary moisture, Flinx continued to suffer from the water that dripped inside the lean-to, but it was much better than simply crouching outside, exposed to the elements.
While the ambient temperature would remain high all night, moisture still sucked body heat away. He huddled close to Teal. They watched as several of the soldiers continued to admire the now brilliantly glowing blue flowers. A glance at Teal showed her staring intently. He started to ask something, decided instead to keep silent. Events could and doubtless would unfold without extraneous commentary. The children huddled close to her, watching with equal interest.
The soldier who had first pointed out the extraordinary blooms reached out to cup a hand beneath the nearest blossom. The blue light illuminated his entire hand, reflecting dimly off the small scales of his wrist.
“Look at this, ssuusam! Is it not wondrous beautiful?”
“Probably serves to attract nocturnal pollinators.” The soldier who’d spoken blinked at the night-rain. “Large insects, perhaps.”
“I have read that such things exist on the far plateaus of Chisskin,” added the third member of the trio, “but I have never seen anything like it myself.”
“I wonder if their scent is as attractive as their appearance?” The first soldier twisted the bell-shaped blossom up and around, bringing it gently toward his nostrils.
A blinding flash of pure white light obliterated Flinx’s vision. Shouts and yells of dismay and distress came from the soldiers in front. Furious blinking failed to restore his sight.
Fingers gripped his arm to restrain him. “It’s no good,” she whispered. “Too many of them were looking the other way.”
“Teal, I can’t see!”
“Hush! It-will return.”
He forced himself to sit motionless while confusion reigned around them. A hissing scream came from the soldier who had discovered the radiant blossoms as, stumbling about while rubbing frantically at his outraged eyes, he missed a step and plunged over the side of the branch. His scream was cut off as he struck something solid and unyielding not far below.
Lining up along the branch, those of his companions who had not been affected by the blinding burst of light aimed their own beams into the sodden depths.
“Chorsevasin, are you all right?” someone shouted.
“Speak to us!” cried another.
There was no reply. Nor could they, search with their lights as they might, locate the body of their unfortunate associate. The green-black depths had swallowed him up.
Flinx found his vision returning. “What happened?” Large white spots continued to dance before his eyes.
“The one who fell agitated a dontlook. The forest world is a closed place and even more so at night. To attract the cocary to its nectar, the dontlook makes a strong light. But the light can also draw plant eaters who would chew up the dontlook for its nectar. If it is not touched correctly, the dontlook will make enough light to bli
nd the unwary who approach too near.” She leaned forward to peer over the side of the narrow branch, into the bottomless depths. “Usually those who are so stunned fly away, bumping into trees as they go.”
With great relief Flinx found he could once more make out individual shapes. A couple of meters away he had been completely if temporarily blinded by the burst of illumination. The face of the unfortunate soldier had been only centimeters from the flower when it had gone off. The flash must have caused considerable pain as well as blindness.
As a consequence, their escort had been reduced to eight.
Lord Caavax LYD, High Servant of his Most Estimable and Expectant Emperor Moek VI, confronted his abashed retinue. The steady downpour was insufficient to cloak the gestures he performed.
“Listen to me, all of you! From now on I do not care how alluring is the life form you espy. I do not care if you find an apparently solid nodule lying loose that is the equal of the most exquisitely polished cassesha wood. I do not care if you find a depression filled with pearlized ziszai seeds. I care not if you pass a hollow overflowing with precious metals and gems. Do not reach for it; remark on it not, pass it by. Note it for future study, if you are so inclined. But touch nothing. Walk around, avoid, evade, circumvent.” He glared at each of them in turn, ensuring that he made eye contact with each soldier individually.
“I do not care if what makes you gasp in wonder appears as harmless as a Lieff scallop contoured in the flank of a dreamer’s dune. Ignore it you will!” The only response from the thoroughly cowed soldiers was some disgruntled muttering.
They returned to their previous positions, those whose close friend had died adopting a particularly aggressive stance, as if they were angry enough to do battle with the rain. In the company of Teal and the children, Flinx settled back down beneath the inadequate canopy of leaves.
“These will never reach their destination.” She was very assured. “You will see. The forest will take care of them.”
“Don’t underestimate them,” Flinx advised her. “The one who just fell made a stupid move. The AAnn tend not to repeat mistakes. I know this species. Once fixed on a goal, they never give up. They’re clever and determined. The higher in rank, the more determined.”
“The more stupid.” Dwell was at once alert and at ease. This was his world.
Flinx continued. “The one I’ve been talking with ranks high in the AAnn sociopolitical hierarchy. If he fails to bring me back he’ll lose a great deal of face.”
“How can he lose face?” Kiss wiped a trickle of water from her forehead. “Isn’t it part of the rest of him?”
Flinx smiled affectionately. “There’s more truth in what you say than you know, little one.” He turned back to Teal. “Remember that he’s holding you responsible for all of us arriving safely at the landing site. If he loses many more troops, he’ll blame you.”
“How can he blame me for something over which I have no control?” There was satisfaction in her voice. “No harm has come to him or his while I have been leading.”
“I know, but from now on he’ll expect you to warn them of any dangers in the vicinity, even if you try to lead them safely past. Don’t let him get angry. I wouldn’t put it past him to kill one of the children just to set an example.”
Teal pulled Kiss closer to her side. “That won’t happen, Flinx. The forest will get them first.”
“What happens if it doesn’t?” He brooded on the possibility. “What happens if these very competent soldiers manage to tough it out and most of us reach the landing site? You can’t lead them around in circles. Caavax and several others have positioners. We have to travel in the direction they choose.”
“I do not know about that. I know only that I must protect the children. About myself I care little.” She leaned forward. “All is not yet lost, Flinx. You are forgetting something very important.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” he assured her. “I wonder at the timing, but I haven’t forgotten.” Water dribbling through his red hair was running down the back of his neck. He shifted his seat on the branch, trying to find a drier spot.
The night was home to active possibilities he was presently unable to sense. That didn’t mean they no longer existed.
In actual fact, they were at present quite near.
His thick green coat efficiently shedding the rain, Moomadeem looked up at Saalahan. “Look at them. Just look at them! Spending the night right out in the open like that. They are stupider even than the strange person called Flinx.”
“They are not-persons.” Saalahan solemnly nodded agreement. “Is one thing to know nothing. Is another to refuse to learn.”
Next to him Tuuvatem strained to penetrate the darkness. The furcots had excellent night vision, but even they could not see very far in a heavy rain.
“Where is Kiss? I can’t see.” The densely vegetated golagola bush in which they were resting rustled with her movements.
“All fine, all well.” Saalahan was a huge black hump in the darkness. “They are under some brorobod leaves.”
Moomadeem snorted pugnaciously. “Not so good. Better to fix things.”
“Did you see the one who shoved his face right into the dontlook?” Tuuvatem could hardly believe it. “What a stupid!”
“A dead stupid now,” Moomadeem asserted. “If the others play stupid also, we won’t have to do anything.”
“They must not reach the other skyboat.” Sitting there on the arm of the tree in the midst of the comforting golagola leaves, Saalahan resembled a soft, round boulder. “They will not reach it.”
“Too stupid,” Moomadeem reiterated. “All the time the bad skypersons were talking, they never knew we were there, right under them in the cave in the branch. Then these strange not-persons came, and they didn’t see us either, not even when the smother trees killed their skyboat.” He sniffed. “It died noisy. I thought we were going to be shaken out of the sleeping place.”
“You understand now why it is always best to wait and see what happens before trying to bad fix things yourself,” Saalahan reminded them sternly. “Sometimes if you leave them alone, things fix themselves.” Tilting back its great head, the scimitarlike tusks glistening in the silver scrimmed moonlight, it ignored the raindrops as it considered the rugged green ceiling.
“Soon all will be asleep.”
“Surely not all?” commented Tuuvatem.
The big furcot stretched, muscles rippling beneath twin sets of shoulders. “Perhaps they are not completely stupid and will leave some awake to look out for night dangers. It will not matter.”
Moomadeem’s eyes flashed in the pale light. “How do you want to do the thing?”
Saalahan’s triocular gaze shifted from one cub to the other. “You are both young. Have you no unsureness about this?”
“Why should we?” A confident, relaxed Moomadeem shook himself, sending droplets flying. “They are not-persons.”
“They have thoughts.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Tuuvatem was licking a front paw and using it to groom her face. “We will do what we must to keep our persons safe.”
“That is fine for Teal, and Dwell, and Kiss, but what about the skyperson Flinx?” Saalahan wondered. “He is not our responsibility. He has no furcot.”
“No furcot to help or comfort him.” Tuuvatem’s paw paused in the middle of her face. “It’s very sad.”
“We have to help him, too.”
Saalahan looked surprised. “I thought you didn’t like him, Moomadeem.”
The younger furcot blinked at the rain. “At first I didn’t, because I wasn’t sure he was a person. Then I decided he was a person, but just stupid. When I found out he was a skyperson I got mad, because I know the stories of what happened the last time the skypersons came. Since then he has learned much, and has helped our own persons. Whoever helps my person is my friend.”
Saalahan smiled knowingly. “Flinx is not the only one who has learned much these past several days.
Learning is a good thing, for furcots as well as persons.”
Moomadeem looked away, embarrassed. “I didn’t say I learned anything. I just said that we ought to help him as well.”
“So we will.” The big furcot’s brow furrowed above the three eyes. “It is the—ethical thing to do.”
“How sorrowful to travel through life without a furcot of one’s own.” Tuuvatem was still mourning Flinx’s status. “I can’t imagine how awful it would be if Kiss were to disappear.”
“I feel the same way about Dwell, but I don’t think about it much.” Moomadeem scratched under its chin with a claw capable of shredding metal.
“I once heard the shaman Ponder speak about this matter,” Saalahan informed them. “He said that humans are mostly active, while furcots tend to be primarily reactive.”
Moomadeem snorted. “Then let’s do some reacting! I’m bored just sitting here in the rain.”
“Patience.” Making as little noise as possible, the massive adult let its great bulk slump down into the cushioning boughs and leaves. The rain washed over it, and the two smaller masses crouched close by, the three motionless humps looking in the darkness like green galls growing directly from the surface of the branch.
It was a semblance that went deeper than it looked.
The half of Tatrasaseep QQWRTL that was asleep was enjoying life far more than the half of him that was awake. Consigned to the watch for another hour or so, he had been awakened by his predecessor and posted near the back of the encampment. Tepid rain streamed off the hood of his camouflage suit, spilled off his arms, waterfalled from his knees and trickled down his tail. No matter how he arranged his limbs, no matter how carefully he sat or adjusted the suit’s hood, a certain amount still succeeded in working its way inside to dampen both his underattire and his spirits.
Irritated and tired, he wiped rainwater from his muzzle. Perhaps if he bent over more—but then he wouldn’t be able to watch the accursed forest for signs of approaching danger. What danger? He mumbled to himself. Virtually nothing was afoot in the saturated landscape. Or a-wing or afloat, he added silently. Any creature that could manage it had sensibly gone to cover, unlike himself and his colleagues, who were reduced to squatting forlornly on the narrow, exposed branch. Strategically he supposed it made sense, but from a practical standpoint it was pure hell.