Post date: Apr 30, 2016 2:58:03 PM
Caradorynee: Feats & Wagers
#5
It had taken Lark longer than he had wished to make his way down out of the tree-like vegetation and into a makeshift and winding queue that stretched out before the multiple wagering booths.
His ticket, which was a circular disk with etched carvings, was securely hidden in a tiny pouch that was tied around his neck. It was too dangerous to hold the ticket, even tightly clutched, in his hand.
There was every imaginable sort of Caradorynean waiting in the line alongside him so Lark kept his eyes downcast. He was already drawing more attention than he wanted.
Humans were still an oddity, and his years as a caradora baker had kept him well hidden in the confines of his tiny bakery in the back of his shop. He had two female Fewpo’s, who acted as his employees, to tend to his customers and the rapid exchange of the freshly baked caradoras and bonedoons.
Lark was jostled numerous times while in the queue, but it wasn’t until a young male Fewpo stomped on his foot that he took any real notice. Lark’s orange pupils dilated and his body began to shimmer as he looked at the withered-skinned being.
The Fewpo was quite a bit taller than Lark. At six feet two inches, by human standards, Lark was not a short man. However, he still had to raise his eyes to met the creature’s gaze.
The almond shaped eyes of the Fewpo were puke green in colour and they stared at Lark in what a human would call a rather hostile manner.
Lark closed his eyes briefly and took a calming breath.
The Fewpo were for the most part docile and the hostile glare that this one was avidly sending him was actually the creature’s form of an apology.
Lark willed his body back into a solid form. He made a slight hand gesture that conveyed a casual attitude of ‘no worries’. The Fewpo’s glare turned vile and then the creature held out one of its four, multi-digit, hand-like appendages.
Lark smiled gently and placed his hand next to the offered appendage. He rubbed his knuckles against the parched, paper-thin back. To take the Fewpo’s finely boned fingers, in a human handshake, was considered rude and cause for insult.
Satisfied that Lark posed no retaliatory threat, the Fewpo made a low-sounding cackle noise and moved on.
Lark returned his eyes to the ground.
The Fewpo had been a ploy. One designed to distract him.
He’d spent years and years learning how exactly to interpret the subtle wavy motion of the Duracka’s sensory feelers. The male that had been circling him during the encounter with the Fewpo had quickly telegraphed to several other creatures that, Lark, as a potential target did not hold an easily accessible wagering ticket. Nor was he an easy mark, for Lark, with his orange eyes had clearly advertised that he had Dueanian blood running through his veins.
Humans may be considered close to a mystical being on Caradorynee, but a Human that carried Dueanian blood automatically made you a mystical being to stay clear of.
The queue began to move forward.
Lark was not molested any further.
Star didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
The next challenge in the Shegata battle was overly simplistic, perhaps even childish. And yet at the same time almost unachievable.
Star took a deep breath and chewed thoughtfully at the right corner of her bottom lip. Her eyes scanned the expanse of the landscape before her.
Docarass, in every conceivable shape and size, not to mention colour, littered the surface of Caradorynee for a good quarter mile.
Star knew virtually nothing about the delicate substance that was created nightly as the Dormoan volcanoes erupted.
The nearest she could equate docarass to was fulgurites, which sometimes occurred on earth when lightning struck sand.
Newly formed docarass, however, was as fragile to the touch as slightly moist clumps of sugar. There was no way you could gather it without the shape crumbling at the slightest pressure.
As a rule, Star had discovered, docarass was normally gathered in the late afternoon or early evening after the scorching Caradorynee sun had had a chance to evaporate a portion of the moisture content within the docarass, causing the sugary substance to crystallize.
It was still before midday, not enough time for Star to locate any docarass that had had the chance to form into any form of hardened surface.
To further Star’s dilemma, this challenge was also a time sensitive one. The competitors were only given a certain amount of time in which to gather as many of the docarass as they could.
Star’s one advantage, and it was slim at best, was the fact that she could smell a hint of damp ash and-
ABONSHEEEEGGGAAA! ABONSHEEEEGGGAAA!
The command to start the next challenge had Star having little time to mull over her theory.
Surging forward, Star yanked the tattered cloth back over her mouth and shucked out of her tunic.
©Human in Inhuman Worlds by Janet Merritt