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
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
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