The Cloud Roost (Jekua Book 5), page 43
Balt looked at Wasaaru and said, “To be honest, I kinda expected more clouds up here. Every time Grandma told the story, the path to the nest was always shrouded in low-hanging clouds.”
“That’s true,” Wasaaru nodded. “I forgot about that.”
“Maybe when we get closer?” said Alani.
“Or maybe it’s just a cloudless day, like how your girl Zawé’s always singin’ about,” Niona suggested.
Looking out at the blue sky, there were indeed very few clouds floating by. Most were no more than wispy brushstrokes far, far away. It was disappointing, really. Balt had imagined them strolling up to some mystical, otherworldly portal enveloped in clouds. That would’ve maybe amped him up a bit.
Taking one more deep breath of fresh mountain air, Balt led the way down the path. The trail curved around the mountain wall; in truth, it was less of a “trail” and more just “part of the mountain.” There were no Royal Ascension-built railings guarding the edges, no signposts detailing where they were, nothing of the sort. Just steep inclines of dirt that they could semi-easily navigate. It was littered with large rocks and plagued by random divots that Balt had to warn the others about as he came upon them.
Soon the trail straightened and flattened out, widening into an area fit for resting, and Balt finally saw it. Only fifteen or twenty feet away was the nest.
Sawarestao’s roost.
He had halted once more, his shoes pressing into the dirt, his mind racing with a hundred thoughts at once. The most prominent was: This was where she stayed. This was where Grandma slept and waited to see Sawarestao.
He soaked it in for a moment more while Wasaaru rushed past him, racing toward the empty nest. Balt quickly followed, leaving the others in the dust.
The nest was massive, just as their grandmother had described it. Its diameter was somewhere between forty and fifty feet long, constructed out of long, thick tree branches twined around each other. Not all had been fully stripped—some dull, green leaves poked out, while the area around the base of the nest was covered in dead, crumbled brown and yellow leaves. Pressed into the sides of the nest were also dried grass and extra pieces of bark, as well as a few large, white puffs of down feathers. A single low cloud hovered just above the nest, bringing a smile to Balt’s face.
He exchanged a grin with his cousin. “We made it,” said Wasaaru, his voice cracking. “Can you believe this shit?”
Balt couldn’t. His heart somersaulted in his chest, an overwhelming feeling of joy threatening to overtake him. Again, he tried to process the fact that his grandmother had stood in this exact spot so many years earlier. Now he was there, following in her footsteps.
He stepped forward, past Wasaaru, and cautiously approached the nest. He didn’t know why he was moving so slowly, especially since the Jenu wasn’t there. For some reason, it just felt like a place he needed to treat with care. With reverence.
Balt reached an unsteady hand out and grazed the tangle of branches, feeling each crag and bump on his fingertips. The rough bark scraped his skin and a strange sense of satisfaction shuddered through his spine.
“Empty,” said Niona plainly, walking over to stand beside Wasaaru.
That was what Balt had expected, so he wasn’t going to write this off as a loss just yet. After all, when their grandmother had come here, the nest had been empty then as well. They just needed to find the last portal now.
He recounted his grandmother’s story in his head. She had claimed the Warp Point was near the nest somewhere. He took a step back, closely examining the edges of the nest, seeking out any faint shimmers rippling through the air.
And then he spotted it.
“There,” he said, pointing. To the right of the nest, a misshapen ovular space in the air subtly wavered, distorting the rock and sky behind it.
It was considerably larger than the previous portals they’d been using. Those had been crafted by his grandmother, intended for use by other humans. This one, on the other hand, had been created by Sawarestao herself so that she could fit through to warp to her secluded rock. As a result, it was absolutely enormous.
He walked over to the portal with even more apprehension and veneration than he had the nest. His eyes locked with the shimmer for a few moments as he stood a couple feet away. Then he turned to his friends, who were all staring at him expectantly.
“Y’all ready?” he asked.
Every last one of them smiled and nodded. Except for Brine, who waved.
Balt turned around and put one foot forward, then another, the skin on his arms stretching out unnaturally as it was sucked into the void. And then he stepped through the portal.
Wild flashes of color invaded his vision. His innards twisted and buzzed violently, but part of him believed that to be his nerves rather than the teleportation. A second later, the neon lights blinked out of existence and he found himself standing on a towering column of rock in the middle of the ocean. The purple sea beat against the rock dozens of feet below, spraying saltwater into the air. There was a smattering of discarded animal bones and rotting meat all over the rock, some piles accompanied by huge, golden feathers.
And then Balt looked up from the grime, and his heart skipped a beat.
There was Sawarestao.
The Jenu was even more beautiful than his grandmother had ever described her. She was a great colorful bird, easily double the size of the massive Rot-Wren they’d fought five days prior. Their grandmother had always said Sawarestao was golden, but that was selling her dreadfully short. While most of her plumage was gold, her neck and underbelly were a fierce, bright red. The sides of her neck were orange, streaked with black, and her enormous wings bore three different, distinct sections of color as they stretched from her body to their tip: the smallest portion was green, and then a bigger stretch of dark red, then a hint of royal blue, before returning to her bright gold. Her long, tapered tail was an exuberant reddish-orange.
Just like in his grandmother’s story, she was perched forty or fifty feet from the portal on a huge, flat rock. There was the sound of waves crashing all around them. Sawarestao turned her head on her long, slender neck and regarded him with curiosity. This human, this stranger, who had just invaded her space. She blinked at him, her eyes round and brilliant white. Her beak was long, yellow, and curved. In a way, it felt to Balt like she was gawking at him with pursed lips.
“Hi,” he whispered, not caring that she was too far to hear him and wouldn’t have understood anyway. Still, there was an intense connection between the two of them as they gazed into each other’s eyes. His mind in a fog, he muttered again, “Hi.”
It was then the others appeared behind him one by one. First Wasaaru, followed by Niona, then Alani and Aeiko. Brine was the last through the portal, and the sight of so many people made Sawarestao lift her head up high, though she did not act against them. Not even when the coral golem raised his arm to wave at her.
Was it possible that she could sense their energy? Their intentions? Did she innately understand that they meant her no harm?
Maybe it was that, or maybe she knew that even if they did mean her harm, they weren’t a threat to her with her immense power. Or maybe it was so rare for her to receive visitors, their appearance was just a fun novelty.
Everyone was as awestruck as Balt. Nobody said a word in the Jenu’s presence. Sawarestao stretched her neck out further, wanting to get a closer look at them, but did not leave her rock.
None of them wanted to break the precious silence that enveloped them all. They didn’t even want to take a step closer to Sawarestao, instead remaining huddled next to the shimmering portal.
Balt could have stood there for hours, for days even, but there was no point dawdling. Sawarestao’s temperament was completely unknown, and she could grow bored with them at a moment’s notice and depart with a flap of her multicolored wings. He extracted his final L3 memory card from his bag and inserted it into his kayet, then clicked the small button to prime the blank card for imprinting.
Alani wordlessly detached the soulstitcher from her body and handed it over to him. He took it, smiling with thanks, and pressed it to his forearm. The tiny needles latched onto his flesh, making him wince, and he instantly felt the extra mana flowing into him.
Now he was racing against two clocks: Sawarestao’s likely waning interest in them, as well as Alani’s mana level.
He strode forward, raising his palms in surrender, trying to impart to Sawarestao that he was not going to attack her. She remained steadfast, watching him with impassive eyes.
Balt casted the imprinting spell, not tearing his eyes from Sawarestao as soulclay spilled out from his kayet. It drifted through the air toward her, but she paid it no mind. She was solely interested in him.
Soulclay touched the bright red feathers on her chest and expanded outward from there, wrapping her body in the yellow, goopy substance. With her impressive size, it took a full minute for Balt to maneuver his soulclay to fully cover her, at which point it constricted to adhere to her body. The two of them still stared at each other through the layer of translucent yellow soulclay. Her eyes were wide and full of life.
Mana drained rapidly by the second. It was a much more intense feeling than with any other Jekua he’d imprinted before. The soulstitcher absorbed more mana from the atmosphere, replacing what he lost almost immediately, but the heavy pull on his resources was still alarming. He steadied his breathing, trying to concentrate on the spell.
There was no telling how much time was passing. Balt felt like how Alani described it when she attuned with the Veptilos, slipping into that timeless space. It was like the rest of the world was at a standstill, and the only other living thing there with him was Sawarestao.
The more the spell dragged on, the lower his mana reserves dipped. Imprinting took a heavy toll at the best of times, and as the spell worked its magic, it required more and more mana. He was getting close to the halfway mark, even with the soulstitcher’s assistance. Without it, he would have surely been depleted already. Cast into soulsickness, throwing his guts up in front of the majestic Jenu.
Ten minutes passed, and then five more. It was impossible to tell how close the spell was to finishing, but Balt hoped it would be over soon. His mana dipped below half of his reserves and was getting dangerously close to the one-quarter mark.
If he failed, even with the soulstitcher, then that would be humiliating. Maybe they’d be able to regroup and let Niona or Wasaaru give it a shot later, after Alani had recovered her own mana. Assuming Sawarestao was still around, anyway.
Speaking of Alani, Balt looked away from Sawarestao for the first time to glance over his shoulder at his friend. She was seated on the ground, hunched over but looking straight at him. Her face was contorted in pain, but when they locked eyes, she smiled encouragingly at him.
She didn’t appear to be doing well. Not at all. Balt didn’t know how long he had until she was outright soulsick, but it was obvious she was already starting to feel the soultear’s effects. Drinking one of Niona’s Thunderjolts might help, but only for so long.
When he looked back at Sawarestao, the bird shifted on her perch, raising up on her haunches. She suddenly flapped her wings, kicking up a gust of wind that nearly bowled the lot of them over. Balt’s grip on the imprinting spell almost slipped, but he maintained it.
Come on, he urged both himself and Sawarestao. Come on, let’s go.
A full twenty minutes had gone by now and the soulstitcher was chugging along, trying to ensure that he pulled this off, but Balt was beginning to lose hope. His mana reserves hit the quarter mark, and behind him, he heard Alani coughing under her breath. She was trying to suppress it so that he wouldn’t hear her, but it didn’t work.
Letting himself succumb to soulsickness was one thing, but he couldn’t do that to Alani. If she got much worse, he was going to have to rip the soulstitcher off and complete the spell without it.
Just then, Sawarestao hopped off the rock and ambled forward. Her neck stretched out far ahead of her, twisting in the air and snapping her beak at Balt. His soulclay still clung to her like a yellow bodysuit, and admittedly it was difficult simultaneously keeping it in place while she moved and trying to imprint her. He silently begged her to stop moving, to stop whatever the hell it was she was doing.
She crossed the space between them, coming to a halt ten feet away from where Balt stood, his face scrunched up in concentration.
“Hi,” he murmured once more.
Sawarestao let out a loud, piercing screech. Everyone else covered their ears, but Balt remained firm.
He and the Jenu stared intensely at each other, and Alani let out another harsh cough, this time entirely unable to tone it down.
Then he felt it.
His soulclay had done it. It had absorbed every piece of Sawarestao, all of her beauty and magic. Balt could feel the Jenu’s energy pulsing through his soulclay, which he then peeled away from her body.
The yellow substance pulled itself off of her and congealed back into an amorphous blob before returning to his kayet. Without wasting another second, he unclasped the soulstitcher from his forearm and held it out. Someone quickly shuffled forward—he assumed Aeiko, but he didn’t look—and took it from him, hurrying back over to where Alani sat.
Balt risked looking away from the bird again to glance at the screen on his device, which displayed a Loading icon. Standing there, watching that stupid little digital wheel spin round and round was going to make him throw up, soulsickness or no.
He looked back at Sawarestao, who blinked for what he thought was the first time since they’d come to her secret pillar.
There was a soft click and then a ding from his kayet.
Sawarestao Imprinted, it read in its ugly, blocky font.
Balt let out a hollow, disbelieving laugh. His throat rasped and his entire body felt as if it were about to collapse in on itself. Mana trickled into him, refilling his reserves at the natural rate. Exhaustion overtook him, and he fell to his knees, letting out a deep and weary exhalation.
Sawarestao squawked once more, then lifted into the air, kicking up dust and pieces of broken bone. She flew up and away, disappearing into the clouds.
Tears streamed down Balt’s face.
45
A Somewhat Hasty Descent
Niona seethed with jealousy as she watched Sawarestao fly away. She never expected imprinting the Jenu to be in the cards for her, but actually seeing the beautiful bird in person got her heart pumping. She wished she’d been able to imprint her too.
To make up for it, she would just have to razz Balt extra hard.
He was panting heavily as he raced over to Alani. Aeiko had reattached the soulstitcher to her and she was taking in deep, shuddering breaths as mana soaked into her body. Balt crouched down to meet her face-to-face, badgering her with questions, asking if she was okay. Over and over, she told him yes. Aside from the mild nausea creeping up, she hadn’t shown any other symptoms of soulsickness, so they were sure that her mana hadn’t actually depleted. Losing mana when one’s body wasn’t accustomed to it could make a person feel pretty lousy, though.
“Yo, give her some space,” Niona said to him. He nodded, scooting backward, his ass scraping through some animal viscera. It must have felt wet through his pants, because he immediately noticed it, twisting his neck around to see what he’d sat in. Niona laughed as he stood and started freaking out, unsure of what to do.
Niona was dying to talk about what had just happened. It wasn’t every day a person imprinted a Jenu, let alone a fool like Balt. She wanted to ask if it felt any different than imprinting a regular Jekua, or if there was something special to it. How low did his mana get? How much would it cost to summon her?
Those and a hundred other questions rattled through her brain as they waited for Alani to recover, which was more important, she knew. But damn did she want a Jenu now. Maybe she could imprint Khonoti back home, or something.
All the waiting was making Niona anxious. She hated being so high up on this weird, rickety pillar of rock (which was not actually “rickety,” but to her, everything tall and skinny was rickety), her body tingling with the perpetual feeling that the whole enterprise was seconds away from tipping over. Hearing the waves crashing against its sides below wasn’t helping matters either.
She gazed out at the endless sea, rotating to look all around. There was nothing visible in any direction, not even a tiny green speck of land far, far off in the distance. They weren’t near the archipelago, clearly, but the weather and temperature didn’t seem all that different from where they just were on the Vetteteo Mountains. Wherever the hell they were in the world, one thing was for sure: Sawarestao valued her privacy.
After about ten minutes, Alani had recharged enough to no longer feel queasy or disoriented, but not enough to get moving yet. With Balt’s fears (somewhat) alleviated, Niona and Wasaaru started assailing him with questions about the imprinting process. Unfortunately, he wasn’t in much of a mood to talk either; apparently, the ordeal had taken a lot out of him. He wanted to take the time to rest and refill his mana reserves. Niona dug through her bag and produced a reddish-orange can of peach-flavored Thunderjolt, tossing it to him. Her supply was running distressingly low, but it was a worthy sacrifice to get him to start talking.
“You got a blueberry in there?” he asked, handling the warm can.
“Nope.”
“Oh well.” He popped the top, which let out a low hiss, and then he chugged a good half of it in one swig.
“Oh, come on!” Wasaaru urged him, not wanting to sit and watch his cousin drink an energy drink. “Spill the details. This is the biggest thing to happen to any of us. It’s the biggest thing that will happen to any of us for a long while.”
“Speak for yourself,” said Niona. “I just got signed to an agency.”
