CITY OF BRIDGES

14

The Melting-point of an Illios

Unlike Leonie, Feiron couldn’t sleep, swirling all night in his barrel. Thinking collecting the eggshells would be a simple matter, he had been reluctant to leave Leonie alone in her comatose state and go exploring. His goal was so close and his friends wouldn’t be able to help. He would have to go alone. Oozing out of his bed, he slid past the sleeping forms of Phil and Leonie. He hesitated when passing her. She’d be sorely put out being excluded, but if what Dorn said was true, then there was nothing Leonie could do. She might even try to stop him.

Soundlessly, and invisible to wyvern minds, he flowed over the many scales littering the floor to a cleft in the rear wall. Around and above, the wyverns slept; their snores filling the chamber with a low rumbling. Whenever he had the opportunity, Feiron searched the cavern, confident in his ability to navigate the fissures would lead to one of the alcoves. His body could deal with the noxious fumes the volcano emitted. His only concern would be the temperature. Creeping along the wall, he began entering the narrow cleft. It took a while to get his entire body inside as he needed to spread himself extremely thinly and over a large area.

With his body spread out so much, his sensory organs could pick up the differing temperatures and air currents more accurately. Since the alcove was supposed to be close to the magma, he made his way in the warmest direction. When that proved false, he backtracked and started again.

With the need to concentrate constantly, Feiron lost track of time. There were far more fractures than expected. Sometimes, he even met up with himself. To make matters worse, the air currents moved in many directions, confusing him. Finally, however, he spied one of the hatcheries directly below. Shell fragments littered the floor. He wasn’t sure which cave it was, but that didn’t matter now; he had made it. Eagerly he lowered to the floor.

It was a long stretch and his bulk, already touching the floor thirty feet below, broke the tenuous grip of the lip of the fracture. The sudden release almost caused him to splash. Hitting the floor stressed his endoplasm, and he barely maintained cohesion. He lost awareness. When his body recovered, he decided it was an experience never to be repeated. Still disoriented, it took a few moments to gather himself before he could start his shell collecting.

The fragments were of many hues and shades; greens, reds, blacks. Many wyverns must have traversed along this floor in the past, their great weight grinding the shells into a fine multi-coloured powder.

Collecting the eggshells was an easy task; a simple matter of moving around the floor and scooping the fragments into his body mass, in the same fashion he had smuggled the Seer’s Codex out of Delta. There were a couple of larger fragments nearer the entrance, but the heat became too intense, forcing him to remain to the rear of the cave. Quickly, he began to notice his consistency thinning from the heat; he decided he had enough to satisfy his master.

Feiron flowed towards the wall; only then aware of his predicament. The only fissure he could see was the one in the ceiling. He was annoyed with himself, blaming his eagerness for being so foolish as to drop into the cave without checking for other exits first.

He oozed up the wall but as the wall curved to become the ceiling, his grip on the rocky surface loosened. Feiron hung like a steaming, wet curtain. If he stretched out too thinly, the heat would make his body bubble and blister, yet if he retained his mass in a thick layer, he’d lose his grip. Either way, it doomed him to fail. Dejectedly, the illios dripped to the floor. He flowed around the cave, even risking a foray towards the entrance in the hope he’d be lucky enough to find something missed, but the intense heat drove him back.

Reaching up to the crack proved futile; even if he could stretch that far, he doubted he’d be able to haul his mass all the way, especially now he was so fluid. He moved as far back as he could to think, but he’d need to make another attempt before percolating away. While motionless, he noticed the droplets beading on his skin. He was evaporating!

*

Leonie awoke from another dark dream; the lair was empty.

Grabbing a chunk of bread, she went out to the ledge fully expecting to see the blob-form of the illios. She looked in all directions, but his grey mass was nowhere to be seen. She turned back at a noise. Phil was emerging from a storage alcove.

“Have you seen Feiron?” Leonie asked him.

“No. I thought he might have gone outside.” Phil looked up from his breakfast preparations. “I know he loves the view.”

“No. I’ve already checked.”

Anyone seen the illios? Phil sent out a general query.

No, I haven’t seen him since last night, Dorn responded. Many others had the same thoughts. None of the wyverns had seen the shape-changer all day.

Do not forget, telepathically, he is invisible to us. We can only see him physically, Dorn said.

Phil suggested they go for a fly, in case the eccentric illios tried his luck at mountain climbing. “Do you think he may have tried for the eggshells by himself?” Phil asked Leonie as they mounted the wyverns. “He was very keen on the idea.”

“It would be like him to go off alone so as not to be a nuisance.”

“Then that’s where we should be looking.” Dorn?

Very well, she answered the unasked question. The youngsters will help search for him.

Dorn and Slana landed so Phil and Leonie could mount then the pair spiralled up to the lip of the crater, moving upwind, away from the nauseous fumes. At the rim, others joined them. Faldo was first to volunteer flying down to look around the alcoves. A few of the more adventurous wyverns assisted.

As the minutes passed, Dorn and Slana idly glided in the shifting wind.

Glancing down through the rising smoke, Phil and Leonie observed the wyverns darting in between the crevices, disappearing completely when they entered the many alcoves.

I think I have found him, a blue wyvern said.

Faldo’s form shot out from a grotto. He raced over to where the blue was hovering, disappearing into the indicated cave.

Leonie leant over the saddle, craning her neck to see.

The heat has melted him. Faldo emerged from the cave and moved away from the heat.

“Why didn’t you bring him?” she yelled when he reappeared alone.

He is too drippy, like water.

“How can we cool him down?” she asked desperately. “Any cold water or ice nearby?”

“Snow or the river,” Phil said. “Best to get him out first.”

“We’ll need something to carry him.” Leonie thought quickly. “That bucket you mentioned, can we use it?”

“Yes of course. It would be ideal, as long as the heat isn’t too much for it.”

As the suggestion was forming in Leonie’s mind, Slana, who wanted to do her bit to help, darted back towards the top entrance of the sleeping cavern.

Hang on, furry one. Slana dropped through the roof. There was little room for flying. She tucked her wings, using levitation alone. This is a shortcut.

Leaning over and looking down into the gloom was a bad idea, Leonie decided, especially with rock ledges rushing towards her. She had to trust in the young wyvern’s skills. Sure enough, within moments of darting into the cave, Slana’s claws latched around the handles of the large leather sack. She pivoted to return to the light.

Leonie’s stomach lurched with the sudden change in direction, but she remained silent and hung on tightly. “Go as fast as you can Slana,” she said aloud, forgetting to ‘think’ it.

Faldo isn’t half as fast as I am.

All Leonie could see was a blur of rocks whizzing past. Suddenly they were awash with sunlight. Slana pivoted and flew like an arrow to the others on the rim.

Leonie gritted her teeth hoping they were still in time.

Faldo, catch. Slana released the handle. The heavy bag fell towards the bubbling lava.

Leonie’s body tensed and her breath caught in her throat.

Faldo fell like a stone after it. Got it. Within seconds of becoming a smouldering piece of hide, he snatched the handles and continued the dive towards the cave where Feiron was situated.

Tricked you. Slana laughed over her sinuous neck.

Leonie hadn’t realised she was holding her breath. She remained quiet, exhaling in relief. The wait for Faldo’s reappearance was interminable. “Have you heard anything?” she asked impatiently.

Faldo?

On my way. His thought reached them as they saw him step out from the alcove. He slowly lifted off the ground for a few feet before flapping his wings.

“Get down lower,” Leonie told Slana.

What about the heat? she asked as she descended.

“I’ll manage. I need to see how he is.” Leonie urged her down. “Feiron. Are you alright?” she yelled when they met Faldo halfway. Waves of heat washed over them, threatening to singe her fur.

There was no immediate response. She was about to call again, but her hearing picked up the faintest reply.

“Tea... good.”

“You idiot. What did you think you were doing?”

This time there was no response at all and Leonie hoped whatever gods that were out there would look after him. The group of wyverns swarmed back to the lair, waiting outside as Faldo lowered Feiron through the roof.

Leonie and Phil arrived through the main entrance as Faldo came to hover above the cave floor. They laid the illios inside his barrel. There was no other way than to tip the bucket over and watch the grey, fluid mass flow over the rim.

He had difficulty moving. I had to lay the bag flat on the floor and hold it open so he could pour in, Faldo explained. He joined Slana to watch the activity from the alcoves above. Dorn sat on the floor, her long body extending to the entrance.

“Have you any idea of how to treat him, since you’re a healer of sorts?” Leonie’s ears were flat.

“I was hoping you’d have some idea. All I can suggest is cool water. He evidently lost a lot of fluid with the heat; see how the barrel isn’t as full as usual.” He went off to fetch the water-skin. “Looks like breakfast will have to be done again,” he called back as he passed the smoking remains of the forgotten strips of meat that had been laid out in the skillet earlier.

It will not go to waste, Faldo snickered.

How can you think of food now? Slana said.

I am always hungry, he protested mildly to his sister.

Hush, children.

“How much do we add?” Leonie asked Phil on his return, hating not knowing how to help. “Do we pour it on? They absorb stuff, don’t they?”

“I guess so. There’s only one way to find out. Let’s see how a little bit goes first.” Phil opened one of the skins and poured a few drops onto the grey mass. “We wouldn’t want to drown him.”

Leonie had never seen Feiron so still before; even when asleep, his form would ripple slightly. She noticed areas of discolouration. “See those dark areas?” She pointed them out to Phil.

“Hmm, burns? We’ll not know until he tells us himself.”

As they watched, the water slowly disappeared. Absorbed into the skin.

“I hope that means he’s still alive.” Her voice cracked.

Taking turns, they poured small amounts, but it wasn’t long before both water-skins were depleted.

“I’ll go get some more fresh water.”

Leonie nodded, handing him her water-skin.

“I won’t be long.” Phil climbed onto Dorn’s back as she reversed out of the lair.

Leonie watched Feiron intently. She remembered the time back at the chasm when the Brothers of the Flame had attacked. Feiron had produced some balm to help heal her burns. She leapt up and went to search through the packs, to see if there was any left. Hastily dumping the pack’s contents onto the sleeping pallet, the flask of miwalli fell out, luckily landing on a blanket and not the stone floor. She took the ceramic jar to him and examined its contents, unsure of how to apply it.

When Phil returned with the water, she scooped out a cup and mixed in some miwalli. It had a foul smell, like decayed vegetation. Holding her breath, Leonie poured the concoction over the grey mass. “How could anyone think this would be good for anything?”

“Ah yes, miwalli,” Phil recounted. “I recall that particular medicine from my horse-healing days in Tesak. It’s very expensive for all its putridness, but quite good for many ailments.”

“We’ll see soon enough.”

“I don’t know about you but I’m famished. I’ll fix us another breakfast.” He went to the fire, noting the pan was now empty. “You’ll be too fat to fly soon.” He spied Faldo’s smug face peered down at him. “I reckon you’ll be staying behind.”

Ha. Fatty Faldo! Slana chortled.

All day and night Leonie waited for some sign of his recovery. She realised she had forgotten to thank Faldo for his efforts. In fact, nearly everyone helped out one way or another, especially the blue wyvern who initially found her friend.

We are happy to do these things. Your customs are strange, but Singer has taught us well.

Leonie recognised Dorn’s thoughts. “Thanks all the same. I only hope once Feiron gets better and starts to write about you all, everyone will know what you’re really like, not vile and evil beasts.”

“Not everyone will believe it, regardless of who tells them.” Phil returned with firewood. “They’ll believe whatever they want.”

“I guess,” she answered. “We can only try.”

It was almost midday the next day before Feiron recovered enough to speak with them.

Leonie raced over the moment she saw a tendril appear over the rim of the bath. “We were so worried.”

“Where am I?”

“Back in the lair.”

“Lair? Did we meet any wyverns?”

“You could say that.” Leonie swapped a concerned glance with Phil before turning back. “How are you feeling?”

“My body’s worked hard regenerating, though I fear some areas are too injured for repair. Thank you for your concern, but we’re tougher than we look though I admit I was worried.”

“I bet. What happened?” She couldn’t tell much from his looks, but his voice had become softer, almost raspy as he described his search for the eggshells.

“The damaged area is absorbed, and I believe I’ve lost some of my memory,” he said.

“How?”

“Because of our make-up, the organs are spread throughout the body. They can all be remade, but if it’s a portion where information stored then it will be lost.”

“How will you know?”

“I’ll let you know when I can’t think of something,” he joked. “Is there any tea left? I do recall a liking for it.” He slowly oozed over the lip of the bath, remaining a good distance from the small cook fire.

“I think, to celebrate your survival, it’s time I introduced you to some Tesakian Redleaf, very rare, but full of everything you could want... in a non-alcoholic beverage.”

As the day progressed, Feiron’s recovery improved, but slowly. He was on the ledge in front of the lair entrance watching the rain and scudding clouds, marvelling at the way they moved along the range, swirling up and over the peaks.

“I reckon it’s a dangerous way to lose weight.” Leonie came to join him. “You are a lot ‘smaller’ than normal.”

“It’s true, most of my mass is liquid. Even with the extra fluid I gained from the river, I’ve dehydrated too much,” Feiron said. “Water will only replace a small part of my loss. The rest, the damaged portion that’s been absorbed, will have to be regrown. Only time will heal all, but tea makes it seem better.” He paused. “I do feel... different somehow.”

“Why didn’t you go for the eggshells earlier? Although it is hindsight, the extra fluid retention may have made it safer.”

“Leaving you to recover alone didn’t feel right.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m amazed at your patience.” She patted him on the back. “You are too kind.”

They saw the wyverns return from their flying as dusk turned to night. Feiron waddled inside to thank them for saving him. The twins acknowledged his thanks, inclining their heads and winking; physical indication was the only way they could communicate with him.

I am very disappointed. Tell your illios friend he is not to attempt such a foolish thing again. In a flurry of wind and dust, Dorn unfurled her great wings and leapt off the ground, soaring into the dark sky.

Leonie relayed the message. Feiron’s colour changed in embarrassment. “She has my word on that, and my sincere apologies. I vow to do what I can to rectify my ignorance of their ways. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and rest.”

The next day dawned overcast and misty. Leonie worried Feiron had still not recovered his usual joviality. Philbert brought in some large eggs; mixing them with his mountain herbs made for a tasty breakfast.

Feiron wasn’t in his barrel and did not appear for breakfast. Leonie sought him out finding him eventually in a rear alcove. “What are you doing in here?”

“I’ve found out what I lost.” Feiron greeted her.

“Your innocence?” She smiled, hoping a joke would lighten his mood.

“That went ages ago. I can barely shapechange into anything.”

“What’s a shapechanger who can’t shapechange? How does that happen?”

“We learn by experience and practice. Muscle memory can be quite good with enough training. Unfortunately, it appears I didn’t retain sufficient muscle memory.”

“Do you recall what you could do? The serpent, or Hectr the merchant, or Drial the vorien—”

“I know what I could do – I can picture it – just not the how.”

“Does that mean longer training with your mentor?”

“I hope not.” He shrugged. “I will endeavour to put every waking moment into shaping in an effort to regain my abilities.”

Leonie watched his forming into different shapes for a while, giving encouragement where she could. “I’ll leave you to it, but don’t overexert yourself. Resting is just as important. So is eating.”

“I’ll be out soon,” he said, then to reassure Leonie, he added, “and I’ll make up for the missed breakfast. No leftovers for Faldo this time.”

A strong breeze came in from the east, whistling along the rock-face near the entrance. As promised, Feiron joined them for lunch and didn’t argue with the double-serving put before him.

“After all that trouble, did you manage to get any eggshells?” Leonie asked her sullen companion over the noise. Watching him eat everything on his plate.

“I can’t seem to find any evidence.”

“Would your body absorb them?” Phil asked.

Feiron paused in thought. “I’m not sure, it’s possible I guess. Maybe I was too weak to retain them, or too fluid.”

“Well, we’ve seen none of it out here.”

“I don’t know what to do now. I promised not to go back without them, and I’ll keep my word.” He nodded to Philbert. “But I’m sure my mentor will be surely vexed if I turn up with nothing.”

“Better her wrath than dying.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“It wasn’t as if you didn’t try.”

“Nonetheless, I wonder if there’s anything else I can procure to mollify her temper somewhat before we leave.”

“What about these wyvern scales?” she suggested. “It’s the only thing left. There’re hundreds of them, and it isn’t as if one comes across them every day.”

Feiron picked up one of the many scales from the floor and examined it closely, noting the colouring and texture. “It will have to suffice.” He sounded slightly mollified.

* * *