Cypress/Memory Books

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## **Volume 4 Chapter 11**

Leaving the temple was one of the hardest things Cypress did. But he needed to go.

“*Every minute after the encounter with Saracen, all I see is Father Dominic and the rest of the monks leaving me. I know they would never do that because in reality, it was I who left them. I remember the prayers we would offer to one another when any monk would go to the altar high above the monastery to pray to our Goddess Eldath. The sight from the altar was nothing short of beautiful. I fear with my bracelet gone, I may never have anything to remember those I left behind. If I die, will I be brought back to the altar? Or will I be left behind yet again? I pray for everyone, and I pray to see everyone make it back home alive.*” He writes into the piece of paper, the start of his journal.

He knows it will be a long journey, but he knows that he needs to go. The remaining monks at the temple would be fine, but he needed to find the others. He was horrified that they would leave so willingly, but then was it really willingness if they were under a spell.

Cypress shook his head, guilty and trembling. He had been so fixated on the tall druid who had taken the scroll and his bracelet from him in the so called ‘sparring match’ that he hadn’t seen what the man in the fancy suit had been up to. By the time he had cleaned himself up after the wiley man with the amber on his head had wild-shaped into a strange snake – his first time actually seeing one really- his brothers were gone. It had to have been planned. A kidnapping. Monk napping? Was that the right word?

He played with the flower luau that the remaining monks had given him, made from the flowers in the garden and a string of amber beads for protection as he followed the path down the mountain, and fearfully into the ever-present fog.

Trees damp with moss and ferns grew up all around him and the sound of birdsong would pause for a moment with every distant rumble of thunder, rhythmic at times and rolling ever present in the background but Cypress was focused. It couldn’t have been long, he was flying he should have caught up with them by now even after ten minutes of flying.

He began to panic. Had they gone the wrong way? Gripping the flowers and beads tighter he flew lower beneath the trees almost flying into a huge arcing structures of a once ancient temple now overgrown with plants and through one of the archways was a door. Or maybe a window.

Cypress landed in front of it and stared out into a vast arid landscape. The view point was from on high, as though he were in the sky or on the top of the mountains but how could he be up so high if he was already came down into the valleys.

He stared for at the window then with a deep breath he stepped on through.

The moment he stepped through the window he was hit by a blast of hot air rising from off the desert far too the south and half blinded by the sun. The flowers withered at his neck.

“Don’t move.” A strange voice he’d never head before. Cypress remained very still feeling the sharp point at his back. “Arms up high. Turn around slowly.”

Trembling, Cypress did as he was told and his beak dropped wide open. A tall white-feathered Aaracockra stared at him, her beak hooked and sharp. She glowered at him for a moment, eyes dark then with a dawning look of shock drawing across her face lowered the taloned glaive.

“Cy…Cypress?” She whispered. The glaive clattered to the floor and she slowly stepped forward, wings limp beside her as she reached out and held Cypress’ head in her hand.

“Babybird is that you?” Her voice wavered as she looked into his eyes then with a delighted and heart-breaking sob held him tight. Cypress trembled shocked and dazed and confused but overwhelmed to be held and listened as she softly cooed to him, “My Babybird, you’ve grown, but how? We were only gone for a week, what happened? How did you get so big.”

Cypress stuttered to answer, but he had no answer. The white-aarakockra called out.

“Pre’taija! Pretty! Get over here!”

There was a blur of red and another bird-man rushed in from on high. Serious and stern, his fists were ready to do some damage. Cypress almost fainted. It was so overwhelming.

“Who’s this punk?” The red one – Pretty, said in a deep and fierce voice, glaring with suspicion.

“Pretty! It’s Cy! Look at his eyes, it’s our Babybird!”

Pretty dropped his fist, then rushed him and gathered them both up into a tight hug.

“What…what is happening here?”

They looked distraught.

“Cy, its us. It’s madre and padre!” The white feathered bird said holding him so tight that his bones felt as though they could snap at any moment.

Shaking off the implications of who they were, Cypress tried to focus, ask a question but he had hundreds, and only one tumbled out of his mouth.

“Do you know where they took the brothers?”

“The brothers? They’re here?”

“Yes!” He felt like crying. It was all too much. “They came to the temple and took them and I don’t even know where they are, or- or-”

In a tumble of words he tried to explain himself. Pretty put his hand on Cypress’ shoulder. Firm and comforting. “It’s okay kid. We’ll get them. Yuki. You wanna go scout?”

With a quick nod of her head, she gave Cypress a quick hug and then was off in a blur of feathers.

“Okay kid.” Pretty said, “We’ll look for ‘em. You take southside by the temple, yer ol’ padre will take east.”

“What about-”

“Yuki. She’s faster than you think kid. North and West will be done in ten shakes of a rattlesnake’s tail. We’ll meet up here in ten and then move forth. Cant sit around here. Its too dangerous son.”

Cypress could have cried at being called son.

With a determined nod of his head he took off, glancing back to Pretty to watch him.

Flying down the mountain for about five minutes, Cypress was about to turn around when he saw them. An temple in the foothills of the mountain surrounded by weird birds and lizards. He drew closer, its design unfamiliar. He recognised the shapes of people, the yellow-orange robes of his brothers and weirdly huge beats walking around on all fours covered in fur. Some black with huge fists and silver backs, some orange with strange long arms.

He focused in on the robes. His brothers.

They were unconscious but he saw red blood pouring down one of their heads as the tall man he had seen before stood over them.

Cypress screeched flew straight at the man in the stripped suit.

“Let them go!” He screamed. The man turned to look at him but before his punch could land, the big muscled ape swung its fist up and knocked Cypress out of the sky. The force sent Cypress wheeling into the side of the temple, dazed and confused. The last thing he saw was the suited man standing over him, the orangutang and gorillas at his side.