Against the Wind

It was the border of his world. Above his head the air turned pink, then purple, before fading to blazing blue. None of his clan had ever risen this far. He stilled his wings and let air escape from his air bladders. He sank as the wind pushed against the membranes between the interlocking hexagons of thin hollow bones that made up his wings.

He glided gently as the sky turned a familiar orange, now tinged with the red of the setting sun. The nest loomed below him, thin hyphae merging into long tangled tendrils, stitched together with nearly invisible membranes. The edges swirled wildly in the wind as if it was reaching outwards, but near the core the tangles thickened into branches, some large enough to land.

He saw his clan already resting, long fractal wings now folded into the thin carapace of their slim torsos. He found his spot and drifted down as he carefully bled his bladders. Short claws grasped the branch and sharp nails held him to the green slimy surface. He drew in his wings and the sail across his back and the ever present force of the wind was suddenly gone. His tired mind drifted into the waking dream as darkness swept in.

#

Perched on the branch, he unfurled his wings to the newborn sun and resisted the tug of the wind. A wave of pleasure swept inwards as the membranes caught the first rays. From the nest, others released their grasp and were swept away, scattering to all sides.

He saw ObliqueWind gliding slowly towards him, wings extended and membranes taut, humid and glistening in the light as she glided gracefully. She landed on his branch and bunches of bulbous eyes swiveled in his direction. She thumped her claw into the branch and it shook. He waited for the pattern, for the meaning that would emerge from the vibrations.

“Their clans will stop you, RainGust,” she said.

“Those that can rise will rise, as it has always been,” RainGust replied.

“You fight the wind itself. They will stop you,” she detached from the branch, the sudden gust propelling her into the sky before he could respond.

ObliqueWind was wrong. He would prove that he could remain there, that he could rise and pick his layer at will, that he was not a slave to the wind, he needed only to find a nest that would let him rest up above.

He let go of the branch and was swept away. He gained altitude quickly at first, before it plateaued. He had reached the peak of his buoyancy. But then he did what only he could do: he gently beat his wings and rose ever higher, climbing where others would be hostages to the currents.

#

The sky was pure blue as far as he could see, the sun bright and nourishing across his membranes. Nests floated in the distance, green blotches trailing long tendrils that snaked to the purple zones below.

His wings beat furiously as he tried not to sink. He picked the nearest nest and angled the sail along his back, cutting across the wind in an impossible way.

RainGust saw them now, the other clans, floating towards him. Their wings were incredible, stretching three or four times the size of his own. They glided gracefully in the gentle winds and approached from all sides.

They joined him, flying in formation, casting him in shadow as layers of membranes drank the sun. A new clan. A sense of belonging filled him. They swarmed ever closer, wings almost touching. They formed a wall against the wind. They drained RainGust of the lifting thrust of the air. Still beating his wings furiously, he sank.

Down into the purple, then the pink and the orange, down still until they hovered just above the brown. One by one, the others rose up into the sky until only he remained, alone in the depths.

#

He drifted in the orange, wings taut as they fed on light, carried by a steady stream that caught his sail. RainGust sped across the sky, for once not fighting the wind.

He spotted a shadow below: an irtrit. The wind filled the creature’s sack membrane and it blew across the stream as its fleshy tendrils snatched small crawling balls of kitt from the air.

RainGust positioned himself, angling so that the creature would fly just below him. When it came he expelled air from his bladders in large bursts and folded in the wings. He plunged.

He landed on the creature, claws sinking into the thick ring around the membrane. RainGust extended his wings again and the wind jarred him upwards, the creature powerless in his grasp.

He opened the maw across his belly, rows of teeth and lips enveloping his prey. Warm liquids spilled into his stomach. It was the moment he had been waiting for. If those above would not let him rise, then he would try something else, something even more risky, something no clan could deny.

#

With the burst of dawn RainGust furled in his wings and sank. He plummeted ever faster, until the wind itself threatened to jerk open his membranes. He passed from orange to brown and the world got dimmer as the brown turned darker. He sprang forth the wings, membranes taut in the sudden breeze.

He saw the nests, not shadows against the sky but beacons of sparkling green light, towering constructs of chaotic tendrils growing beyond reason, mutating into maddening clusters. Clans with tiny membranes swirled all around in unpredictable gusts. They came to welcome him, believing he sank against his will.

In defiance, he spread his wings fully, catching the updrafts and soaring towards the orange. Some kept up, more and more falling behind the further up he got. When he stood at the threshold he again drew in the membranes, descending back into the brown.

Clans hovered all around him and they all understood. He picked a nest, the largest of the bunch and flew towards it, struggling against the unfamiliar streams of air. He landed gently on a branch and none contested.

#

The way forward was down. He descended slowly, wings mostly retracted as he carefully managed his bladders. The brown darkened until he barely felt the tingle of the sun on his membranes.

Creatures filled the air here, close enough to grab with his claws as they tumbled aimlessly in the current. Some clumped into each other, growing in size until they became too heavy and sank into the darkness below.

That was all that remained, the land of death, of darkness unending. He drifted further down, until even the glowing circle of the sun was lost in a gentle haze. Dark shapes floated past, creatures he had never seen or heard of. He kept sinking.

The world turned green. Dark, then lighter and lighter. Water coated his membranes, and he beat his wings to shake the droplets off. Wind raced wild, streams crashing into each other, rising and falling, swirling and mixing the colors. The air was thick and languid under his membranes. Large swarms of white triangular sailed creatures merged into streams, flowing like water across the currents in tumbling swarms. Creatures batted across his frame as he dropped further down.

He saw it for the first time, the land of the dead, a solid floor to the entire world, stretching as far as he could see on all sides. He landed. The ground gave beneath his light weight, slimy and warm. Creatures rained down from above and carpeted the floor in layers. He saw someone from another clan, punctured membranes slowly leaking as he crashed down into the ground.

Beating his wings, he hopped forward but the crash site was lost in the green haze that drowned out all the sky. It was not what they said. It was not what he hoped. There was only death and rot.

He unfurled his wings to the fullest. Creatures and rain settled on to them and he shook them free. He hopped up, beating them with all his strength, struggling to gain height, only to fall down to the ground, again and again.

The wind was still.