THE FOLLOWING DAY REPEATED the last one. Hot, dry, dusty, not even the excitement of seeing an actual Giant to break the monotony.
“Miserabler and miserablest,” Allory grumbled, wishing she could kick a few rocks about. Zero desire to break her toes put paid to that idea.
“Not an actual word, hrrr-prrrt,” the scholar had to point out.
“Which one?”
He made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat.
“Well, would you look at that?” Ashueli gasped.
“Flowers! Blossoms! Vast, blooming garlands of glorious – ugh, you rotten tease!”
Allory had heard about desert mirages during storytelling time in her cocoon. Did imagining whole jungles full of flowers count? Might a shimmering heat haze turn into wonderful fields of wildflowers, a thousand delicate tastes to titillate her tongue?
Well, not to split the pollen too finely, that would be a no. Aye to the heat rash. No to the visions of glugging nectar until her little tummy hurt.
Stepping around the Elf to peer at what she had become excited about, Yaarah yawned, “A few grass blades? I fear I share my companion’s distinct lack of enthusiasm.”
“You two!” Ashueli hissed, before moderating her tone. “As I told you, this region of the canyonlands is almost barren. I’ve scouted and trained here since I was a child. I’ve also made the journey to the Suylas Deepwoods annually, which means eighteen crossings plus return journeys, albeit via the safer alternative sun-spinward route.” Crouching, she stroked the green fuzz with a reverential fingertip touch. “There’s been a deep change here. This growth is new and unprecedented, likely the work of your Dryad friend. I sense the swelling potentials of life in this area like you, Allory, would scent nectar. This fires my Elven blood. I’ve a hunch we’ll be finding blossoms far sooner than I had imagined.”
The Fae scratched her antennae. Her stomach voiced a miniature but undeniably fierce growl, making them all chuckle.
Ashueli said, “You’re an advocate of ariavanae, are you not? The most legendary Scintillants of yore were said to be weavers of this unique magic. So, could you –”
“Yay. Legendary little me. Please!”
The Princess’ eyes leaped from the ground to her. Suddenly she faced Allory, tall and proud and majestic, and spoiled the impression by snorting, “Shall I smack her first, Felidragon? Or would you like to do the honours?”
“Same time, on three?” he offered.
“Since you’ve obviously been talking about me behind my back, with all due respect, I suggest you go suck on the first suggid we can find out here,” Allory huffed, folding her arms. “You can even share, how’s that? You think you’re all golden, Mister Purrmaine, but you’re actually completely transparent, because – oh suggids, for real this time! You’re in pain, aren’t you?”
He dipped his head. “Aye.”
“The wing break? What are your symptoms?”
“I’ve a burning sensation from the shoulder flight joint all the way out to the break. After that, I can’t feel anything at all.”
“I’m sorry, Yaarah.” Allory winced as her voice cracked badly. “I’ve been in such a funk after – you know. Let’s find a place to stop for the evening and I’ll examine you properly. I’m supposed to have learned a couple of things from the Pixies, after all, and maybe this time … I have a favour to ask of you, too. Would you draw me a map?”
“I’m honoured but, I must ask, why a map?” Flicking her wing-clusters to propel herself along his neck to his head, Allory scratched him behind the ears. Yaarah purred involuntarily. “Mrrr-frrr! And this?”
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“Found the spot?”
“A little lower on the left, and to the outside … oh, I say … mrrr-hrrr, that’s so … mrrr! Heavenly. Careful, I might walk smack into a tree out here.”
“There aren’t any trees,” she chuckled.
“Right there when I kidnapped you, I knew you’d come in useful for something, one day,” he purred snootily. “Keep rrr-ight on going.”
Allory flitted off his head, arms folded crossly. “That’s it! No more scratches for you.”
Princess Ashueli glanced at them as if they were both mad. After a minute, she chortled, “Imagine scratching Sabline behind the ears?”
“You do like having a hand, don’t you?” Yaarah gurgled.
Allory said, “She’s scary, but I do believe her heart is true. There’s –” Ashueli began to make a disparaging noise but apologised with a gesture “– never mind.”
“Say it,” the Elf insisted.
“Ah, well … I meant, there’s … music inside of her. I – I can’t …” Allory threw up her hands. “Look, what do I know? I’m an expert in precisely nothing. Just … it’s good music. Potent, powerful and strangely poignant. I know it’s a horrible cliché, but I believe that she’s essentially a good creature – behind the pain – alright?”
If she heard me now, she’d start by amputating my ears …
The Princess did not say so, but Allory could read the doubts and even offence behind that carefully-schooled expression.
“That sweet, fluffy ball of essential goodness tried eat you, as I recall!” the Golden Purrmaine put in stiffly.
“Give her a chance, Yaarah.”
“Right –”
“Like you gave me?”
“Oh, hrrr-hssst! Would you just stop being so right, it’s as annoying as being a miraculous living sparkle,” he pretended to grumble, and raised his muzzle abruptly to scent the breeze. He inhaled gustily. “Oh, that’s interesting. That old oasis you mentioned, Princess? We’re close.”
All eight of her wings perked up. “Water?”
“Glad one of us is paying attention,” Ashueli said drily. “Lead on, friend Felidragon.”
“Water-rrr,” Yaarah purred, twitching his tail restively. His nose rose to sample the air delicately for several moments before he pointed with his paw. “That patch of boulders, methinks. Let’s try there.”
Allory wondered if she added the word ‘friend’ as a kind of test, perhaps reacting to one of her own fears. Maybe half Elven Princesses of isolated Human fortresses did not have many friends, or had many, but mostly the sort interested in her looks, purse or station? Whatever the case, the Felidragon stretched out his good wing and tapped her cunningly upon the wrong shoulder as she focussed on remembering where the oasis was hidden, and when she spun about with a laugh to discover that he was the perpetrator, he chuckled and told her she had friends in unexpected places.
Those brilliant green eyes grew moist around the edges, if a Faerie was not mistaken, but the Elf concealed her reaction by jogging ahead. After trying a few dead ends amongst the massive pile of dull red boulders, she slipped through a very narrow crack to explore, and vanished within.
Ash’s voice echoed faintly, “Here it is. It isn’t much but safety, food and a dash of water await. Come around the other side, it’s easier.”
“Even your hips will fit, Miss Elven Inches,” Yaarah purred cheekily, leading the way.
Huh. For a scholar who allegedly had zero warrior qualities, he had just found water in the middle of a barren, heat-scorched land. Not bad, Yaarah. Not bad at all.
Ignore the eleven inches comment?
No way. The new, bold Allory reached out to smack his tail and received a mild shock and a swift apology after. Suggids. This dry air did not help his natural static charge. Maybe a call to keep his pelt dirtier for less insta-zap effect? On the way around the boulders, she put the idea to a haughtily unimpressed Felidragon.
The Princess had discovered a sweet spot. The oasis lay hidden in the sun-spinward face of a monstrous rock formation, a concealed hollow which was one of a number of interconnected spaces formed by the huge, smooth oval stones. One could slip between or crawl through to access further small pockets, perhaps fourteen or fifteen cosy recesses in all. Three pockets shared a sad trickle of what must once have been a lively spring, which fed numerous pomegranate trees growing and twisting about in the partial shelter of these boulders, and selin-berry bushes. The crop was withered but just about edible. The deep orange pomegranate blossoms smelled almost dry, perhaps a drop of goodness reaching them now as a result of the Dryad’s reawakened presence. Precious little.
Allory’s heart sank into the hollow pit of her stomach. “Oh, that’s not so good. I’m awfully hungry.”
“Mrrr-hrrr, but for my part, I smell yummy dinner for hungry carnivores right nearby,” Yaarah purred happily. “May I perchance interest you in a fresh canyon cobra fire-roasted to perfection, Your Highness?”
“Wonderful, bring it on! Shall I –”
“My treat. As long as you do the hard work required next.”
“Ah, what’s that?” Ashueli gazed imploringly at the inch of water in what must once have been a decent pool at the base of five pomegranate trees. “Not quite the old royal bathtub, is it? Even Allory’s going to struggle to wet her toes in that.”
The Felidragon’s whiskers twitched energetically. “You know, I’d almost imagine that between an Elf with hereditary green thumbs and a Fae with an extraordinary affinity for ariavanae, you two could consider coaxing a bit of life into this place. However, that requires convincing a phenomenally stubborn Scintillant Fae and I am most certainly not the girl for the job. Over to you. That cobra and my stomach have a date with destiny.”