Dan Brockington Brockington

Chapter 1: Plotting Revenge

Aaron’s home reeked of pride and wealth. The deputy leader of the pyre-angel rebels lived alone underneath a vast over-hang of rock high up in the mountains. He had walled it in with panels of glass and quartz that shone with prisms of light. The morning sun gleamed off polished tiles and lattice-works of gold and silver.

Now his beautiful home was polluted by an ugly mess of pyre-angels. Writhing tails and lizardy skin sprawled, fuming, in the central dining pit. The rebels flared at each other, baring vicious teeth, as they fought over food, spitting phlegm and gobbets of tar.

Aaron tried to ignore the filth seeping over the floor. Arlette had insisted on a secret gathering, so he had to host it. He patrolled his noxious guests with folded wings and haughtily served them fine acids and high-grade tars. His disapproval oozed in a sickly green cloud.

“Hey Aaron!” a guest shouted. It was Sam, a particularly slobby pyre-angel who was guzzling Aaron’s exquisite drinks as if they were common diesel. Yellow drops of acid smoked down his jowls. “This stuff’s fantastic! But it’s a bit fizzy, I need to – ”

“Get outside!” shrieked Aaron. He was too late. A large belch of fire ripped from Sam, covering the dining pit with flaming droplets of old food.

“’Scuse me,” Sam offered, “but if you serve bubbly stuff, it’s not my fault.”

Aaron’s face set. He slunk towards Sam around decorated pillars; flickers of blasting fire sparkled on his lips. Sam slithered towards him, scraping his claws over the ornate tiling. They would have fought but for Arlette. Their captain pinned Sam’s tail to the ground and pulled him backwards in a smear of brown ooze.

“You can get your belly tickled by Aaron after I leave,” Arlette warned. Her long claws scraped at his hide. “For now, shut up, or I will peel off your scales and pull out your wings.” She stalked to the edge of the pit, her beautiful colouring shaming their filth. Furious red flames flickered over her body.

“We face a setback,” she announced. “The Guard we caught, whose name I do not want to hear, has failed us, and we’ve lost our most experienced military leader.” She struggled for control. Fire dripped from her teeth. “We still cannot launch our attack.”

“What about the Wall-Breacher,” said Sam. “Is Ratona likely to return?”

An involuntary blast of fury erupted from Arlette at Ratona’s name. Fine crystal panels shook and quivered. Aaron flinched.

Arlette calmed herself. “Only if she could open Shifting Zones from Earth.”

“That’s irrelevant,” Aaron snarled, “she’s dead. I saw the gunners’ fire overwhelm her. And if she survived that, then Humans will have killed her already. We can forget her.”

Arlette grunted in satisfaction. “We will overcome this setback,” she insisted. “This is only temporary. We will find a way and when we do so we must be ready at once to invade.” She looked to two young pyre-angels jiggling nervously in the pit opposite her.

“Baelstrom, Maurganal – how are my invasion plans proceeding?”

This was a happier topic, and several pyre-angels vented their approval with raw flame. The rough glass screens around Aaron’s sleeping quarters blackened with soot. A fine obsidian panel shattered in the heat.

“We’re as ready as we can be,” Baelstrom began. “We’ve scouts selected for the first wave.” He flared with excitement, igniting Maurganal.

“A fresh development is that we now have squads of engineers to build bases and prepare food supplies on Earth. We can now make our invasion self-sufficient.” Their listeners rumbled their approval with a series of minor fire blasts. Small blasting shots of applause chipped Aaron’s polished floor and cracked his screens.

Maurganal took over. “Small squads will carry out the first assaults. They will go for the softest targets for maximum damage.”

A chorus of happy blasts greeted this news. Maurganal and Baelstrom flared in unison. A large glass screen at the entrance of the cave shattered into bright shards. Aaron dug his claws into his floor tiles.

“We have other news,” Maurganal continued, “which is even more . . . more . . .” He tried to contain himself as explosions of delight leaked from his gullet. “. . . important and will be . . . will be . . .”

Then Maurganal losy control. Firecrackers of excitement erupted around his face. Sam applauded his enthusiasm, sending a long stream of fire straight through Aaron’s sleeping quarters, scattering gold nuggets and precious crystals.

“He means it will be even more exciting,” Baelstrom explained. “Those smaller cells will run out of suitable targets. Now, because of the engineers’ work, we can send in larger squadrons. We will fight Humans in the open!”

Maurganal and Baelstrom exploded simultaneously in joy. Their colleagues roared, filling the room with fire and noise. Mica screens and delicate furniture smashed in the blasts. Fine metal filigree melted and dropped off the walls in misshapen lumps. Vats of acid cracked and burst in their racks. The food supplies ignited.

Aaron surveyed the destruction, flaring white in hatred.

“I am delighted for you,” he said, miserably, “and forgive me for not sharing all your joy, but there is one rather significant flaw in your plans. We can’t get to Earth. So all these grand plans and the DISGRACEFUL DESTRUCTION they are causing ARE COMPLETELY WORTHLESS.”

His anger silenced the rowdy crowd. Maurganal and Baelstrom hung their heads sheepishly. The other rebels looked grumpily at each other, their happy flames subsiding into smoke.

Arlette rose to respond. “Our friend is right, but this mess will be worth it. Our next steps are simple. We know that there is another set of Shifting Zones, another place where the foelorn are getting to Earth. Ratona found them once, so we can find them as well – and we shall.”

The pyre-angels looked at her curiously.

“How are you so certain?” Sam queried.

“Because I know where they must be: they are below ground. Shifting Zones glow with light – they are, in their own deadly way, beautiful. We would have discovered them by now if they were above ground. We know they are somewhere on the edge of the eastern mountains because that is where Raoul was tracking Ratona. So we are going to search every possible location. We start today.”

She fixing each of her comrades with her eyes and hissed at them.

“Do not fail in your task. We must have our revenge.”

Chapter 2: The Ti’ita

In the silence of dawn, the great tree slumped, broken and still.

A faint mist clung to the corners of the valley, shrouding the forest. On the high shoulders of the mountain ridges, dawn lit up distant crags. Soon this quiet corner of the forest reserve would be bright with sun and foraging insects.

Samti looked up to the giant tree again. This was, this had been, her beloved ti’ita, her sanctuary. She had sheltered in it, hiding from guards, and she had found the first sign of grimcats there.

Now it was ruined. The shattered remains of a viewing platform hung from it like a shroud. Tired planks, scoured by ants, dangled forlornly from scabby, threadbare ropes. The tree’s great boughs were bent and spliced, bound with chains and heavy metal ties. It stood still, silent and unmoving in the morning breeze.

A quiet footfall disturbed Samti’s gloomy thoughts. Babu and her cousin Dawi, had caught up with her. Wordlessly Babu put an arm around her, sharing her grief. Samti’s mother, Babu’s daughter, had loved this place, and he had loved it before them both. This sanctuary had passed through generations.

“They made a mess, didn’t they,” he remarked. A few months before, a conservation project had tried to build an eco-lodge here. Now it was abandoned, and its debris lay scattered about them. The pressed-earth walls were crumbling in the downpours of the rainy season. Already the forest was reclaiming the land. Briars and vines snaked over the ruins.

They had come to help the forest complete its healing. Samti began collecting the remnants of wood and broken furniture for a final bonfire. Dawi dropped a bag of tools on the ground beside them.

“Please start down there,” Samti instructed him. “I want this hideous mess erased.”

Dawi selected a heavy metal crowbar and headed a little way down the mountain. The builders had constructed a crude path to their lodge, pushing boulders into a rough wall beside it. Dawi began levering rocks out of the wall, creating minor landslides and avalanches of stone as he erased the track. Babu followed him, scattering seeds on the broken ground, pushing roots and cuttings into the fertile earth, helping the forest on.

It was several hours before they paused to rest. “It won’t be so easy to get here now,” Dawi observed. His shirt was dank with sweat. “You might have to crawl. There’ll be a path under the thorns Babu is planting, but no easy route.”

Babu laughed at him. “Thorn bushes don’t stop either of you! You always find a way through.”

“We manage,” said Dawi. “There’s no harm in having the odd secret path. You never know when it may come in useful.”

He stretched backwards, shoulders creaking, and tried to wipe the grime from his brow. His hands were scratched and bruised from manhandling rough stones.

“Samti, these boulders are heavy. I’ve hurt my shoulder on that last one. Where’s this pool that you told me about?”

Samti looked glumly up at the broken giant above them.

“It’s hidden behind that,” she gestured, pointing to her tree. “That’s my ti’ita.” She shrugged. “Or rather it was. They killed it for a viewing platform.”

Babu looked up at the stately ruin, appraising it with his woodsman’s eye. Then he looked down at the ancient roots that reached out to them, seeping over veined rock. “I’m not sure about that,” he replied. “It would take a lot more than clumsy carpentry to kill that being. Look, they’ve just pulled those branches down with chains. They’ve cut some of the greenery out, but that will grow back. Dawi needs to break the bindings and these branches will spring back.”

Samti’s breath caught in her throat. “Please don’t joke with me about this,” she whispered. “It can’t be that easy.”

“It isn’t,” protested Dawi. “Those bindings are massive, I’ll never ...” His voice trailed off. He had caught the hope in Samti’s face and a glance from his grandfather.

“I mean I’ll get onto it right away,” he promised. “Let me put this dislocated shoulder back, and sort out my broken fingers. It’ll be easy.”

* * *

By mid-afternoon, an exhausted Dawi was resting by the side of the hidden pool, soothing his tired hands in cool water. Babu dozed beside him in the shade. Above them a great tree was rebounding into life.

Samti climbed once more into the boughs of her ti’ita. She pressed her toes on the smooth curve of the great branches. The soles of her feet tickled. It was delicious. The rough bark surged with vigour as the limbs of her tree unfurled, reaching for the light once more. She could almost hear it slaking its thirst from the deep pool nurturing it beside her. Healing sap bled from the wounds that the lodge builders had made, flooding insects and diseases from its skin.

She reached upward, and pulled herself higher into the canopy and slashed away the last vestiges of rope with her panga. The dead bindings fell silently to the forest floor. Let it rot. There would be no trace of that hateful lodge when she was done.

Around her, she could feel the forest awaken and welcome the return of the giant. Loerie birds slunk lazily through the canopy, drifting from branch to branch. In the distance an eagle called, high and piercing. Life called to life.

Samti lay down in the dappled shade, nestling into layers of moss, and let her mind drift over the last extraordinary months. There was so much to celebrate and be thankful for. Her family was free from debt. They had an unexpected ally in the forest guards, Claudi, who owed his life to Samti. Now, with her ti’ita back her problems were surely over.

She contemplated the sky. Clouds were gently forming and dissolving over the mountain ridges. All was as it should be. Butterflies danced over the flowers that peeked shyly into shape around her.

But all this beauty could not hide the fact that something did not feel quite right. Something she could not place. Slowly she calmed her mind. What was troubling her?

Samti thought back to the revelations she had experienced in the last few weeks. There was Ratona, the monstrous creature who leaked fire and love in equal proportion. Then she remembered how Mama Leo had reacted when she first met Ratona. No, best not dwell on that.

So it was not Ratona, but maybe it was another animal – Amandla. Amandla the grimcat who had adopted Ben her mzungu friend on the conservation project. Amandla who shimmered gold, red and orange in play, but who could disappear in a crowded room with an instant change of colouring.

Maybe she was the problem. Amandla had come here to find Ben, and all of them had left for Europe. She had constant text messages from those wazungu about how they missed her and her forest. But all she saw of grimcats was the occasional WhatsApp picture, or TikTok video, of Amandla.

That was wrong. That must change. There were grimcats in these hills. She had lost her toffees here to a thieving grimcat. The cats owed her something. She was going to adopt one, just like Ben.

“Hodi,” called someone from below. Dawi was craning his neck trying to find her in the seclusion of her hideaway. “Can I come up?”

Samti considered. This was her place, but then Dawi had put in a hard shift. Perhaps she might permit it.

“What were you thinking about,” he asked, after he scrambled through the branches. “You’ve been sitting up here a while.”

“This is the best place to listen to the forest,” Samti replied. “Nothing knows you’re here. I’ve seen loerie birds dance to each other, and even monkey troops will rest close to me in these branches.”

“Maybe you should wash more often,” Dawi suggested, easing onto a branch beside her. “Monkeys being so friendly is not a compliment.”

Samti punched him on the shoulder.

“Seriously, I know that look in your face, what were you thinking about?”

“It’s the grimcats,” Samti replied. “We know that they’re in the forest, and we know the forest better than most people. But we don’t know where they are. Those wazungu came here saw them. We didn’t, and that’s not right.”

“Will it be safe though?” Dawi asked. “What about the poachers?”

“Well the latest I heard is that Sebastian’s gang were locked up for at least twenty years. They’re also being tried for the crimes committed in India. They’re going to be old when they come out of prison.”

“Then I think I know where we could look for grimcats,” Dawi said.

“Where?”

“It would be on the high ridges, above the duku groves, beyond where I found Ratona. There’s all sorts of caves and shelters up there. That’s where we saw the crows guarding something when we were stealing duku.”

“Could we go again?” Samti asked. “The forest guards won’t trouble us now.”

“I would love to walk up there with you,” said Dawi. “It’s one of the most beautiful spots in these hills, but we have to be careful. Just because Amandla was tame does not mean that the other grimcats will be. What if we meet a green-yellow cat? They’re the ones your Ben feared, and they’re out there. You saw one. One of them destroyed that logging camp.”

Samti nodded. “You’re right, but you’re forgetting something else. Remember what Ben said about discovering grimcats? No one found those cats. The grimcats revealed themselves. So if they choose us, then we should be safe.”

“From the grimcats, yes.” Dawi grinned. “But probably not from my mother. Given what she tried to do to Ratona I would be careful if I were you.”

“This will be different, Samti insisted. “Ratona burnt you. So Mama Leo was cross with her. Very cross. But my grimcat will only love me.”

* * *

Humans

So stupid. Fussing about trees. Climbing them.

Trying to hide in them. Failing.

Looking for us.

How sad.

How wrong.

That fool-cat may like them. But she is not like us.

We are the green cats.

We are feared.

Humans could be tasty. Could be sweet.

But useful.

Let them play in the forest. A bit more.

Then we will choose.