Horizon Storms - Kevin J. Anderson [94]
“Hey, watch where you’re flying!”
Solimar swerved, barely avoiding an upthrust claw of dark branches. “I wouldn’t let you get hurt, Celli—it was too much trouble rescuing you the first time.” She playfully slapped him on the arm and continued to hold on. He had always been there for her, when she most needed him.
During the hydrogue attack on the forest, Celli had found herself stranded in the burning fungus-reef city. She had waited too long before trying to escape, not willing to admit her own danger. Then, with as much grace as she could manage, she had worked her way from the core of the blaze by edging out along lumps on the fungus city and using acrobatic skills and treedancer moves to get from one precarious perch to another. But the fire had spread rapidly, cutting off all escape paths. She had been trapped, frightened and helpless, scolding herself for getting into such a problem—until she’d heard the buzzing engine of a gliderbike. She had looked up and raised her arms, full of desperate hope, and Solimar had swooped in to snatch her from the jaws of death. Fear had melted into relief as they flew away to dubious safety.
Celli had never really noticed him before he’d rescued her. Had she been so aloof, so self-centered? Estarra would probably have said yes, but Celli had changed a great deal since the hydrogue attack.
Now, every day in the aftermath, they took Solimar’s gliderbike to survey the damage, while landbound green priests moved through the burned thickets, clearing debris, salvaging treelings. Children and acolytes sifted through the ashes, searching for armored black seedpods; others cleared greenhouse plots, lovingly planting the seeds to bring back tiny treelings.
“I just wish we had more help,” Solimar said.
As Celli had expected, the Hansa military was very interested in the broken warglobe she’d discovered. Their scientists and weapons engineers had come here, delivering a shipload of relief supplies to Theroc like a consolation prize in exchange for the alien wreckage. Instead of staying to help with the important labor, though, the EDF specialists had taken the pieces away for analysis on Earth. It was all they wanted.
Now, the gliderbike sputtered, and one of the condorfly wings froze. Solimar calmly adjusted the jammed wing and fiddled with the controls. The gliderbike quickly restabilized, and they rose higher, continuing their outward spiral.
Oddly for a green priest, Solimar loved to tinker with gadgets and equipment, from leftover machinery and instruments from the Caillié to new items brought in by Hansa merchants. He enjoyed chasing large butterflies above the forest canopy in gliderbikes of his own construction. Once, he’d even been pursued by a voracious wyvern, from which he’d barely escaped.
The worldtrees found the mechanics fascinating. Since the forest used only biological powers, the calm organic sentience had limited knowledge of gears and pistons and pulleys, and the acolyte Solimar had diligently described specs and designs for engine after engine, vehicle after vehicle. Now the worldforest retained that data, able to share it back with him. Whenever he needed information to fix a piece of equipment, Solimar could tap into the trees through telink and access any reference material he wanted.
Solimar expanded their search spiral again, but there seemed no end to the burned areas. “I don’t suppose we’ll be treedancing together anytime soon.” The two of them had talked about their mutual passion for the sport, and discussed the moves they knew. But now such joyful diversions seemed impossible.
“Not for a little while yet,” Celli said. “But I look forward to when we can.”
Where a stream was blocked by fallen trees, the water had backed up and flooded a meadow, drowning any plants that had survived the fire. “We’ll have to send workers to clear that blockage. The water needs