The Fiuri Realms (Shioni of Sheba Book 5) (9 page)

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Nable to breathe, Shioni
wrenched into wakefulness. For a moment she thought the hammock flower was crushing her. She felt as though bands of molten metal were clamped around her ribcage, being slowly squeezed shut by a mad blacksmith. Her throat was swollen. Every shallow breath whistled in her lung-passages. Not enough. Her entire body cried out for air, but there was no air to be had. Gasping, she pawed at the hammock flower.

With a tiny unzipping sound, the flower popped open and dumped Shioni face-first on the toadstool right beneath her.

The trio of Yellow Fiuri guarding their campsite leaped into the air. Swords zinged around her. But the target of their ire did nothing but wheeze incoherently.

Shortly, Shioni heard worried Fiuri gathering around her. Viri said, “Chardal, what can we do?”

At a fingertip touch, a tingling entered Shioni’s shoulder and spread into her body like warm, sweet nectar. “Allergies,” said the scholar. “This should help.”

Iri said, “She’s turning blue, Char.” Strong hands turned her over. “I never wanted her to change colour this way.”

“I’ve had a few Hunters report these symptoms when travelling through Fifteen,” Tellira put in. “Usually the pollen-brained pupae just blind themselves amongst Cave Fourteen’s crystals. But a few have reported that the spores in the air give them breathing problems. Char, I’ve never seen it this bad. You need to bubble-shield her with a filter. Quick wings, boy!”

Shioni’s breathing began to settle, but black spots still danced in front of her eyes. She saw a stricken look enter Chardal’s eyes. He said, “I’ve never tried that before. I could kill her.”

“Worse than this? Hurry, Chardal.”

Worse than being killed? Shioni wanted to laugh. Her mouth gaped open like a fish freshly hooked from a mountain river. Dimly, a warning tolled in her mind. Fish? Mountain? River? What words were these, to a Fiuri?

Muttering rapidly, her scholar friend began to wave his fingers, tracing complex symbols in the air. He bit his proboscis in deep concentration. “Filter, filter … how did that go? Come on, Chardal. Fly to the nectar. You remember this. No. A different bubble …”

A faint, familiar shimmering of rainbow colours surrounded her. Shioni’s antennae prickled with an awareness of magic. Chardal kept right on burbling to himself. By degrees, the tightness in her chest eased and with it, her panic began to fade. Was she wrong to feel so ashamed about being frightened? Shioni rubbed her breastbone. She really was better, wasn’t she?

She smiled weakly at her friends. “Thanks, Chardal. Sorry about–”

“Don’t be such a pollen-brain,” said Viridelle, rather sharply. “If you had your own magic, you could learn to manage this as easily as sucking flowers dry.”

“Viri’s on the wobbly nectar. She just cares too much,” Iri teased her sister.

A low growl from Ashkuriel made their smiles freeze on their faces. “Fine,” he said. “We can catch up some flying time now that you’ve woken us all with your hysterics, Shionelle.”

“I do wish a Dung Beetle would roll him up,” Char whispered.

His comment kept Shioni chuckling as the dazzle of Vermilion Dragonflies winged on through Fiuriel’s never-dark sleep time. The dragonflies swooped beneath flaring yellow mushroom caps that spread overhead like the roofs of gigantic buildings. Every filament and edge and stem was outlined in rich, glowing purple lines. Many of the smaller toadstools sported garish blotches of colour, sickly reds and putrescent oranges being the most common. The stench of decay hung so thickly, Shioni imagined that she could lick it out of the air and eat it–not that she’d want to! They passed two enormous beetles tearing into each other with their mandibles and antlers. The Dragonfly-drivers had to swerve smartly to avoid being swatted in the violent duel.

“We’re coming to Harfiuri Ledge,” said Chardal, pointing ahead. “It’s an outpost of these Fiuri. They don’t like strangers passing through their territory, especially not near the medicine factories. They say we pollute their air. Ha! Very likely!”

Ashkuriel did not seem inclined to stop for anyone or anything. Waving his arms as he bellowed his commands, he urged greater speed from his drivers. The Vermilion Dragonflies’ droning grew more intense as they surged through a wide cavern, heading for the dark, lichen-encrusted entrance of a new tunnel. Shioni glanced curiously at the Green Fiuri outpost as they stormed by. Most of the Fiuri here seemed to be darker Greens, but she also saw a number of Reds. Scientists, she realised, probably working on new medicines and new cures. Nobody was smiling or laughing, unlike Cave Seventeen where even the poorest Fiuri children seemed to have a ready smile or a game of pat-the-puffball to play.

Ever onward they droned through the gloomy tunnels, past fields and forests of mushrooms, through a world so far removed from pleasant Cave Seventeen that Shioni felt anxious to the point of nausea. By evening they had passed through but a ‘small slice’ of Fifteen, according to Viri and Char, and were on their way through the connecting tunnels to Cave Fourteen, home of the crystal workers.

Suddenly, Viridelle shouted, “Slow down!”

The drivers hauled at their reins, barking commands to slow the great Vermilion Dragonflies as they approached a mountain of rubble.

A cave-in! Shioni peered past the Yellow Fiuri driver. A vast section of tunnel wall had collapsed inward, avalanching rock and pulverised crystal across a broad plain of lurid pink mushrooms. The trail of destruction continued to the opposite wall, where an equally massive burrow had been excavated.

“Cave-Crawler,” said Viridelle, confirming her suspicions. “Big one. Good thing it passed far from any Fiuri habitation. See here, Shionelle. The plants are dying. They poison everything they touch.”

Shioni tilted her antennae. “Listen, Viri. You can still hear it.”

Viri gaped openly at her. “Pollens and nectars, Shionelle …”

“What’s so amazing about hearing a Cave-Crawler? It sounds like crystal chimes singing …”

Her voice trailed off. Everyone stared at her, tongues unfurled and wings stilled in amazement. Ashkuriel’s expression was especially poisonous. She knew at once that Lord Tazaka would be hearing all about this.

Chardal said, breathlessly, “Shioni, any old Colour can hear a Cave-Crawler digging, or feel it–because they’re as strong as an earthquake when they move. But only Blue Fiuri hear Crawlers singing. It’s magic, you see–an incredibly rare ability. I’d guess at most two or three Azures have ever claimed this power. It is said they could speak to–”

“Shut your nectar-hole, scholar!” snarled Ashkuriel.

Shioni stared at Char, mouthing, ‘Blue?’ He nodded.

Ashkuriel grated, “Lord Tazaka grows impatient, Hunter!”

“Move on,” said Viri. “That Cave-Crawler is long gone.”

Long gone? Then how could she have heard it? Shioni stared down the side-tunnel as they passed by, but there was nothing to be seen in the darkness. Strange to think how Fiuriel was constantly being hollowed out, as though it were a busy underground insect-warren. But there did not seem to be too many natural enemies for the Fiuri, especially when they banded together and used their magic.

Then Shioni saw Viri’s head snap about. “Weapons and shields!” she yelled. “Silverfish!”

A cloud of wasp-like creatures boiled out of the Cave-Crawler’s exit tunnel behind them, swimming through the air with strangely sinuous undulations of their bodies. They fired gooey purple balls toward the caravan as the Vermilion Dragonflies picked up speed, but for the most part their attack splattered harmlessly against Chardal’s shield. The trailing Dragonfly, however, was struck on the tail and vented a terrible, grating shriek.

“Poison,” muttered Char, waving his hands furiously. He tossed a handful of crimson powder into the air.

Shioni sneezed violently. Red peppers?

The Silverfish advance stalled in the cloud of powder, allowing the Vermilion Dragonflies to build up speed. But the silver creatures wriggled frantically. They were so fast! Squealing at a pitch which pained the ears, the Silverfish soon began to overtake Ashkuriel’s caravan, dive-bombing Char’s shield with increasing frequency. Viri and Tellira let fly with arrows, downing several of the creatures, which flew using fins either side of their body and long, plumy tails. They were immediately mobbed and torn to shreds by their fellows. The Yellow Fiuri soldiers flung their throwing spears or loosed arrows at the swarming Silverfish. Purple again splashed Char’s shield, which wavered but did not collapse.

“Hang on, Char,” Shioni encouraged the pale, sweating scholar.

“Faster!” roared Ashkuriel. “That Cave-Crawler let them in!”

Shioni plucked the driver’s bow out of its holster, and pilfered a handful of his arrows. She took aim.
Fire!
“Got one!” she crowed. “And another!”

She could do this! Without pause for thought, Shioni reloaded and fired directly upward into a knot of Silverfish shadowing them up there. The mass of predators imploded as they ripped into each other, careless of which was the wounded one. Shioni shuddered. By the first pupa, as Viri loved to say, she would not fancy being a Fiuri caught by a pack of these.

“Left, left,” groaned Chardal.

Shioni’s and Viri’s arrows pierced a Silverfish simultaneously.

“That one was mine!” Viridelle howled.

Ignoring her friend, Shioni fired again. “And behind,” she said, aiming carefully past Char and the rearmost Yellow Fiuri. Her arrow brushed his antennae on the way past, smacking right between a Silverfish’s gnashing teeth. Three more shots and she ran out of arrows, but Viri and Tellira had established a rhythm now, wounding or killing Silverfish in the thick of the pack so that the bloodlust overcame them. Soon, they left the squabbling, feeding Silverfish far behind.

“Fine shooting, little Hunter,” said Tellira, saluting Shioni with a wave of his bow.

“Little Hunter?” snorted Viri, clearly as green as her skin with envy. “I can tell you a thing or three about Shionelle! Why, that hopeless pollen-brain–”

The older Hunter’s low growl cut off her complaint as effectively as if he had slapped her in the face with a Glue-Slap plant, Shioni thought. Viri fell immediately to her work, calling out instructions to the Vermilion Dragonfly drivers.

Quietly, Char said, “The sixth Hunter proverb, Shionelle, goes like this: ‘A good Hunter praises a skill. A great Hunter knows when to give praise.’”

“I see.” Shioni asked, “Do you see many Silverfish?”

“No, they’re rare,” said Chardal. “Creatures like Silverfish are one reason our cave wards continue to be so vital. Every Fiuri respects the wards, because without them, we’d all be dead.”

“So the wards kill the bad creatures?”

Shioni felt the boy-Fiuri nodding behind her. “Yes, even those creatures as large as Cave-Crawlers.”

“Can a Fiuri pass through wards unharmed?”

“Of course!” Char began, and then he coughed uncomfortably.

“What?” The White Fiuri turned in her seat to regard Char, who squirmed in his seat like a Fiuri child caught stealing nectar. “Char?”

Pulling his antennae in embarrassment, Char muttered, “Wards are keyed to recognise Fiuri magic, Shionelle.”

“What … oh. Oh! I couldn’t–”

“I wouldn’t recommend trying.” He smiled weakly. “At least, not until we find your magic again. By the first pupa, you’re a mystery, Shionelle! Now, to answer the rest of your question, during the old Colour Wars there were wards developed to distinguish between the different Fiuri Colours, right down to the specific Clans. It is believed that the Azure Fiuri guard access to their highest knowledge and magic in this way.”

Shioni puzzled over this, tugging her sharp little chin as she had seen Viridelle do. “Do wards know which creatures are good and which are bad? Or do they kill everything?”

“Everything not Fiuri,” said Char, turning a fine shade of rose at her expression. “They can’t tell good from evil, Shionelle! And the complexity, to program them to recognise different creatures, would simply be impossible to manage.”

“Yet, wards can recognise the Fiuri Clans.”

For the first time, Shioni saw Chardal moved to anger. He swallowed hard, his hands trembling on the nectar gourd he had been holding. Could she not have posed that question more gently? Char was not a killer. Perhaps he had never thought about what his work involved–after all, he helped to shield many Fiuri from grave harm or death, just as he had shielded their group from the Silverfish.

“Sorry, Char.” Still, a further thought struck her. She asked, “Do you think a ward could be placed inside a Fiuri’s brain? Blocking them from … remembering?”

His long tongue flopped onto his chest.

B
Y Late Afternoon,
the buzzing Vermilion Dragonflies had carried them far from the gloomy tunnels of fungi and medicinal mushrooms, to the sparkling wonderland of Cave Fourteen. Shioni decided that rolling up her tongue was not worth it. What a wing-prickling, antennae-tickling delight for the eyes!

Even Ashkuriel seemed to be on the verge of smiling. Almost.

Crystals. Everywhere, crystals, so thickly encrusted that there appeared to be no stone left uncovered in the entire length of Cave Fourteen’s endlessly straight tunnel. Branching crystal forests in a deep emerald hue. Dazzling crystal florets in delicate pinks, vibrant oranges and deep, mysterious shades of blue. Here and there, Shioni saw oases of hammock flowers or other plants being cultivated by frilly-winged, delicate Yellow Fiuri, quite unlike the solid, unsmiling bruisers Ashkuriel had chosen for their escort. Curious Fiuri children riding long, torpedo-shaped crystal dolphins, came swarming from all around to chatter and point at the visitors as they whizzed by. Shioni waved back, laughing happily.

Filled with the tinkling song of working Fiuri and radiant rainbow hues of light, Cave Fourteen seemed to be a place where unhappiness was unknown.

“Scholars theorise that Fourteen was formed differently to the other caverns,” Char lectured anyone who cared to listen. “The cavern walls resemble the interior of a vast geode, or a volcanic pipe encrusted with gemstones.” Shioni nodded. She remembered a volcanic pipe filled with red garnets. Perhaps she was a Red Fiuri, one of the scientist clans? “These crystals, however, are living organisms. Their growth and multiplication can be measured. There’s a vast array of creatures unique to these crystal caverns, which exist nowhere else on Fiuriel, as best we know.”

“Are those Silverfish?” cried Shioni, pointing ahead.

“Crystal butterflies,” Viri smirked. “They’ll flutter you to death.”

“Stop shaking your antennae at my little petal,” scowled Iridelle, folding her brawny arms in a manner that evidently alarmed the Yellow soldier seated behind her.

When Ashkuriel finally called for a rest, they halted in one of the oases for the night. A small delegation of Yellow Fiuri appeared. Viri and Tellira bargained for food, but the bargaining seemed very odd to Shioni. First, Viri offered all the nectar they had. The Yellow Fiuri praised their generosity and promptly refused the gift. Viri twisted their wings, so to speak, until the Yellows accepted several gourds of valuable nectar, whereupon they plied the travellers with gifts of their own–crystal jewellery and singing flowers and other trinkets.

All too soon, Shioni was rolled up in a hammock flower. A Yellow Fiuri stood guard nearby. Apparently, dangerous allergies were not allowed when one was being hauled off to Lord Tazaka. She thought she would be too excited to sleep, but that was the last Shioni remembered until Iri woke her in the morning, to a chirping chorus of Fiuri children who had gathered to stare at the visitors.

Ashkuriel scattered the children with one of his trademark snarls.

At breakfast–more nectar, of course–Viridelle briefed the group. Only Ashkuriel, two of his Yellow soldiers, and the Hunter Tellira had travelled through the Cracks to the inner Fiuri caverns. “You must stick closer than my wings,” Viri said. “Char can focus our wards and shields better if we’re close. Fiuri travel through the Cracks all the time, but it is hazardous. Shionelle–no tangling with the plant or animal life. Assume that anything we meet, wants to eat you.”

Shioni turned pink and stared at her toes.

Viri added, “Expect change, landslides and mist. Drivers, obey my commands or you’ll end up in the belly of a Purple Chomper, and I don’t want to be the one to have to cut you out. It’s vile. We have three days in the Cracks. Let’s focus on safety.”

Soon, the inhabited parts of Cave Fourteen lay far to the rear. The Vermilion Dragonflies droned on and on. Despite Ashkuriel’s insistence on an early start, it was near lunchtime of their uninterrupted flight before the landscape suddenly changed. Dramatic, depthless ravines sawed into the tunnel’s sides, while the vegetation grew wild and tangled, sprouting and trailing from every possible surface and crevice. Huge, slow-moving insects crawled along the cavern walls, great beasts with shining, armoured carapaces and serrated mandibles comfortably large enough to snap up a Vermilion Dragonfly for a snack, let alone a Fiuri.

The drone of the Vermilion Dragonflies’ wings deepened as Viridelle directed them through a region of spiders with bodies as large as Fiuri houses, whose vast, glistening webs seemed intent on binding together great floating islands of rock and vegetation. Floating islands? Shioni flicked her wings in excitement, drawing an angry exclamation from the hindmost soldier on their dragonfly.

“No flying off!” he rapped.

“I’m not … don’t you see? Those islands are floating in the air!”

“Islands?” inquired Char, whipping out his notebook. “Another new word …”

Shioni threw over her shoulder, “How does rock float?”

“The plants produce gas, which–”

Char’s reply was cut off by Viridelle yelling, “Change direction! Follow me!”

Somehow, Shioni expected from the booming sound for an avalanche to fall from overhead. Instead, wind blasted her white hair sideways. The Vermilion Dragonflies turned on their tails and shot upward, jinking and dodging through a hail of rocks and dust. How could they even see to fly? Shioni held on white-knuckled as their mount rolled and jerked–had something struck its tail? Abruptly, they burst free of the avalanche. Huge boulders, dislodged by the blast, tumbled between the larger floating islands.

Chardal said wryly, “The plants produce gas, which under the wrong conditions can explode, Shionelle.”

“Everyone alright?” called Viridelle.

“Just a small cut,” said the Fiuri driver of Ashkuriel’s dragonfly.

Shioni eyed the golden blood dripping from his elbow. If she was so certain that golden blood was strange, what colour ought it to be? Once more, her mind remained as stubbornly blank as the unused pages of Char’s notebook, which were rapidly being filled up by the weird sayings of a four-winged freak of a White Fiuri.

“Move on,” said Ashkuriel.

“He should bind the cut before the blood attracts predators,” Viridelle countered.

Iri pointed. “Too late, sister. That thing looks hungry.”

“And its friends,” said Shioni, pointing to her left. Several long, streamlined shadows sliced through the dust and rubble in their wake with ominous intent. Grey and pointed at the front, their rear ends terminated in a thicket of red-tipped quills which looked as deadly and poisonous as they most likely were. Six pairs of grey fins along their flanks propelled the creatures through the air with a lazy yet powerful swimming motion.

“Trust us Hunters,” said Viri, rather sharply, but Shioni saw that her face had become pinched. “I didn’t know Saqubids grew that large, Tellira?”

“Evasive manoeuvers!” he snapped.

“Right, every Fiuri, let’s show these pests a clean pair of wings,” Viri ordered. “Saqubids are pack hunters. Watch out for an ambush ahead.”

At once, the Dragonflies shot away between the floating Islands, skimming close to the leafy surfaces, but not too close. Plants adorned with tentacles and jaws and razor-edged leaves waved toward them as they whizzed by. Viridelle changed direction with dizzying frequency. Chardal wove spells that knocked several of the pursuing animals out of action. But each time Shioni looked over her shoulder, the grey shadows had moved closer.

A wild race ensued. Nipping around corners. Ducking into vine-tangled ravines. Screaming through ever-narrowing gaps between the floating islands. The Vermilion Dragonflies, goaded on by their drivers, drove forward with a high-pitched whine of their wings. The wind whipped Shioni’s hair around her face and pummelled her wings, hurting the muscles of her back, until Chardal kindly showed her how to tuck her wings down, out of harm’s way.

Shioni bit her lip. Surely any Fiuri worth her wings should know that?

Onward they raced, bolting for the safety of the mists, still several hours’ flying ahead.

Viridelle led the group of five Vermilion Dragonflies confidently through a honeycomb maze of tunnels before they ducked down a long, narrow ravine filled with spiky plants that released clouds of noxious yellow gases into the air, but only after the speeding Dragonflies had passed by.

“And a sharp right at the end!” shouted the Hunter.

Taking the turn at a speed that threatened to tear Shioni’s head off her neck, she heard a scream! A wet
splat!
Grey-and-red quills rained down on the travellers. Their driver yanked the reins hard, narrowly escaping the spring-loaded jaws of a plant with tooth-edged leaves filled with gluey, jelly-like cushions clearly designed to trap flying creatures. Iridelle’s Dragonfly was stuck! The Fiuri yelled and waved their weapons, desperately trying to cut themselves free of the plant as its leaf began to curl shut over their heads.

“Saqubid! Dead ahead!” shouted Chardal.

Quills sprayed thickly at their faces. The driver ducked, screaming as a sharp quill pinned him in the shoulder. Shioni, to her enormous surprise, beat two flying quills out of the air with the help of the crystalline cast on her arm. Leaping hyenas, was she that fast? A third grazed her cheek on the way past and pegged into Chardal’s backpack, held out in self-defence.

“By all the nectar I’ve never drunk,” he moaned, pulling the spear-sized spine out of his backpack.

Her body knew what to do. As the grey monsters moved in, some threatening with their spines while others flipped about to snap at the Fiuri with their narrow, toothy beaks, Shioni lifted the Saqubid quill out of Char’s hand, saying, “I’ll need that.”

One Saqubid swallowed a Yellow soldier’s sword up to his elbow, while another aimed a bite at Iridelle’s head.

“Iri!” Shioni shouted. “Watch out!”

She hacked desperately at the ropes pinning her to the saddle. Free! Shioni dived sideways off the Vermilion Dragonfly’s back before she remembered she had wings. Fluttering, spinning, venting a wordless scream of rage, she rode the quill like a lance and slammed it perfectly into the Saqubid’s black eye. The creature shuddered, releasing its bite on Iridelle’s arm. Shioni somersaulted in the air. Control the wings, silly! She buzzed down to Iridelle.

“Here, Iri, I’ll cut you free.”

“Don’t touch the glue,” she warned. “Thanks, little petal.”

Shioni sliced rapidly around Iri’s right wing and shoulder, freeing her from the sticky cushion which had trapped her sword-arm. With just a little sawing, Iridelle managed to free her sword and hacked angrily at the plant. Three Saqubids gnawed and snapped at Iri’s Dragonfly, but Shioni managed to pull her friend free, and then helped her free two trapped Yellow Fiuri.

“Shoot the eyes!” called Viridelle, doing exactly that.

Two Saqubids slumped, their wings falling still. Iri shoved them away with a muscular heave. “Let’s get this Dragonfly out,” she called to the soldiers.

As they worked, Shioni saw Ashkuriel’s Vermilion Dragonfly nipping beneath them to attack the remaining Saqubids. Most had already lost interest in the travellers–they seemed more eager to feast on their dead or injured fellow-creatures. Shortly, the soldiers freed the trapped Dragonfly and the group slowly pulled themselves back into the saddle. But Shioni saw they were two less in number, while a number of the Fiuri had bites or injuries from the Saqubids’ quills.

“We’ll fly on to the mists and rest there,” Viri ordered. “I’ll need to find the scent-markers for the trail ahead, and we can tend our wounded. Wrap any bleeding with cloth, lest we attract any more predators.”

“Any of the five
pupillion
possible creatures which would like to eat Shionelle, right?” said Char, earning himself glares from both Shioni and Ashkuriel.

“A ‘pupillion’?” said Iri, her green eyes flying wide. “That has to be the most enormous number … bigger than all of Fiuriel!”

“It’s not a number, pollen-brain,” sighed Viri.

“Char’s just yanking your antennae,” said Shioni.

“The expression is, ‘Tugging your wings’,” Char corrected her, swatting Shioni on the shoulder with his notebook.

Iridelle pouted at Chardal. “Mind I don’t use that notebook to scrape the mush out of your brain, scholar-boy.”

As the battered dazzle of Vermilion Dragonflies set off through the Cracks once more, Viri teased Chardal about relying on the ‘mighty Hunter Shionelle’ to protect him. Poor Char seemed in danger of exploding from embarrassment.

Then, they became aware of distant thunder.