Under the Green Sun of Slormor

by Bertil Falk

Chapter 6
Part 1 and Part 3
appear in this issue.

Chapter 6:
In the World of the Hoverers

part 2 of 3

Thank heaven we were not looking for the ring of the Nibelungs or the King’s ring, nor did we have any Ring of the Lord to throw away. We were only out to get salvation. Therefore, forward! Farther on! Hurry up! Do not stop any longer than necessary, come on now!

I got to my feet, brushed off the butterfly-like leaves that had stuck to my clothes, and nodded. And I decided that we should try to take it easy, slow down, attach a touch of reflection to our wandering.

The descent to the viscous edge of the wood required many hours down slippery paths with slippery stones and thick roots, which seemed to be forever tripping me up wherever I put my feet. The vegetation got more and more bushy; the bushes became more and more arboreal; and the trees, more and more slimy. Disgusted I saw the slime hanging from the branches like green snot, and every time I touched these catkins I gave a start and jumped aside.

Parvin seemed to be unaffected by all that turned my stomach. Now and then, fluttering sounds could be heard above our heads, but the crowns of the trees hindered us from seeing what kind of winged things brought about these sounds. The forest became more compact; and the more compact it became, the more sounds I heard. Sloppy calls gurgled, and continuous hootings from leaky howls shot pains through the thick branches. The terrain resounded with laughing yells so horrifying that I shuddered every time I heard them.

Parvrin stopped, picked up a jet-black, eight-sided fruit from a withered branch, put it into her mouth, shut her eyes, and seemed to enjoy the taste. She picked another, squared fruit and gave it to me. It was certainly a delicacy; it melted in my mouth like broiled crocodile meat and tasted like melon ice cream.

Parvrin continued. “This is going very well,” she said.

Obviously Parvrin could see the indistinct path we were treading, although I had great difficulties in perceiving it as it sloped and meandered between blue-back tree trunks with doughy catkins and slushy stems. When an occasional breeze traversed the branches, it sounded like a death rattle.

The path we were following gradually became clearer ahead of us. It began to run upwards in a bend around an enormous tree with a trunk that at least was a hundred meters thick. The track turned into a spiral staircase carved into the side of the trunk.

We walked with increasingly heavy footsteps ever upwards until the stairs ceased. At the end was a suspension bridge that floated between dim tree trunks in the shade of immense foliages. Between the trees, flying animals threw themselves, sailing on membranes spread out between extremities or wings.

The suspension bridge turned out to be the prelude of a network of such bridges, and after a short walk we arrived at something that looked like a village that seemed to float freely in the air. The village was built on a mighty floor stretched like a plateau between a few dozen big trees. But no bridge led to it.

Proceed to part 3...