by Ellias Quinn
“Rach, I’m about to go crazy,” Dask said. “What are you, a trick-magician? How’d you get out of that box?”
“Well, er…” He twisted around to see Dask and smiled nervously. “You didn’t lock it.”
“Oh, thiffen,” Khelya said. “I knew you’d mess somethin’ up.”
Chapter 19
Quite Bright
Matil let go of her fade, seeing that it wasn’t necessary anymore.
The Sangriga gawked up at Khelya. “An Obrigi? What sort of Obrigi is translucent?”
“An Obrigi who’s got Ranycht friends,” Khelya said glumly.
“Friends?” He looked at Matil and excitedly shook his hands, which were tied together. “I’ve heard of you three! You’re the trespassers who escaped the Corwyna Prisons!”
“Great,” said Dask, letting go of his arm. “We’re famous.”
The Sangriga focused on Dask. “What in Eventyr are you planning to do with that artifact?”
He pointed at the Sangriga with his knife. “Hey, you said it wasn’t worth anything. What if we just want it to look at it? What’s it to you?”
“Well, I helped you find it and gave you the permission slip to borrow it.”
Khelya bowed slightly. “We think it belongs to the Eletsol,” she said, “so we’re takin’ it to Fainfal. It’s supposed to help us wake the Elders.”
The Sangriga jolted. “Wake? Elders?”
“Khel,” Dask whined.
“Please don’t try to stop us,” Matil said. “We’re looking for the Heilar as fast as we can.”
“To wake them?” the Sangriga said. “From the Hibernation? The Great ruddy Hibernation?”
Dask folded his arms. “Stupid, huh?”
The Sangriga breathed in deeply before speaking. “What makes you think you can do it? What proof, how much research have you done? Why do you think the toad thingy belongs to the Eletsol? If it does, then how did it get here? What does it have to do with the Elders? How will you find them? Have you got a map or something? Was it all hidden in some kind of code? Because I have theories.” He laughed. “Oh, I have theories. But why are you searching? This is all so—”
“We got what we wanted, so we’ll be going now,” Dask said. “Hand me the rope, Khel. He won’t get free this time.”
Matil looked apologetically at the Sangriga. Even with those piercingly bright wings, he didn’t seem bad. Like the councilwoman and her agent who helped them escape the first time they were in Tyrlis. “Sorry,” she said. “Thanks for helping Dask.”
The Sangriga took a step forward. “But—”
“Rope,” Dask said.
Khelya reluctantly pulled rope out of her pack. “Here we go, wrongin’ Sangriga again.”
“Wronging Sangriga? Did you forget they lined me up for execution in Corwyna? When you punched out that guard, it was the best thing for everyone.” He took the rope, crouched down, and began wrapping the Sangriga’s legs.
“No, wait!” The Sangriga tripped backward over the rope and fell on the ground. “It makes so much sense. The writings the Elders left behind were all in pieces. No one understood them. But based on what you’ve told me, I can already see how they go together! This is the breakthrough that we in the University have been waiting for. I’m Scholar Simmad, a specialist in Elder studies, and you must let me work with you!”
Matil blinked and opened her mouth but couldn’t think of a response.
“He’s out of his mind,” Dask observed.
“I dunno,” Khelya said. “Maybe we could let him come with us.”
“Oh. Okay.” Dask stood. “Matil,” he whispered loudly, “let’s make a run for it.”
“But,” Matil said, “what’s so bad about bringing him along?”
“I’m the only sane one left, aren’t I?” he said.
“I’m serious, Dask,” Matil said. “Tell us what you think.”
He squared his jaw. “We’re not taking this murderer with us.”
Matil felt ill hearing the word. Her thoughts jumped to Nychta.
“Murderer?” Scholar Simmad said, getting to his feet. “I am no murderer, sir!”
“You and the rest of your night-forsaken kind might as well be,” Dask said.
He shrank back. “I know Sangriga and Ranycht haven’t been friendly in the past – Dark Districts, Westfalinn, and all that – but I- I think alva should be judged on their own faults and merits. For example, I’ve never done anything to warrant the title of murderer. Unless one counts the time I wrote an epic poem and killed off all the characters. Eh-heh.” He cleared his throat. “Please…may I accompany you three?”
Matil looked between Simmad’s longing face and Dask’s unwavering glare. “Just a moment,” she said to Simmad and Khelya. After taking Dask’s arm, she pulled him away from the others.
He tossed Khelya the rope. “Tie him up,” he said.
They walked behind a thick root, where Matil faced Dask. She spoke carefully. “I think we should let him come.”
“Why?” said Dask.
“He seems to know a lot about the Elders. We might need someone like him.”
“Someone like him is the last thing we need.” He glanced in the direction of Khelya and Simmad. “What if he’s dangerous? He might be waiting for the right chance to rat us out. Maybe there’s reward money if he turns us in.”
“Might and maybe,” Matil said. “I’ll watch him. If he’s dangerous, we can handle it. Okay?”
“You don’t understand,” Dask said.
“I do,” she said. “You’re being stubborn because he’s a Sangriga. I know how much you dislike them, but this one…”
Dask rolled his eyes. “Don’t say he’s nice. You don’t even know him. What if he is a killer? A really bad one who sneaks in alva’s—”
“I was going to say he seems harmless. But you’re right, I don’t know.” Matil remembered the genuine passion in Simmad’s eyes when Khelya mentioned the Elders. “I still think it would be all right for him to come along. He found the pendant for you and then followed you back here. It sounds like he can carry his own weight.”
“Doubt it,” Dask said. “I kidnapped him, I should know. He’s weak, he talks too much, and he doesn’t have anything useful to say.”
One of Matil’s ears twitched. He kidnapped the Sangriga?
“Believe me,” Dask went on, “he’s a chump. You’re telling me we should take a chump with us.”
She leveled a serious gaze at him. “Why not? You and Khelya stayed with me.”
“Matil…you don’t understand.”
“You said that already.”
“Listen.” Dask stepped closer. “You barely know what they did to the Ranycht. You haven’t lost everything because of them. Even after all that’s happened, you have me and Khelya, and we take care of each other. You’ve never been alone.” He shook his head. “I just can’t handle one of them coming along like he’s one of us. I can’t look at their faces without…seeing the fires again.”
A shiver ran down the back of Matil’s neck and she found she couldn’t meet his eyes. He was right. It would be cruel to hurt him by bringing Simmad. “Let’s go, then. I’ll tell him he can’t come.”
Dask’s ears lifted. “You’ll do that?”
“I will,” she said.
“I…thanks. You. Thank you.”
Matil didn’t want to let the Sangriga down, but it would be better this way. She smiled reassuringly at Dask as they went back to the others. Khelya was tying off Simmad’s leg bindings. She murmured apologies.
The Sangriga wore a determined look. “I’ll- I’ll follow you to Fainfal!” he said.
“You won’t be able to find us, and then you’ll get stuck in the wilderness without even a bowl of noodles.” Dask gave him a disgusted look. “You might as well stay
safe at home.”
“But…” Simmad hung his head. “Home. I suppose you’re right.”
A new voice from above made them all freeze. “Ho there! What are you doing out so—”
They looked up at a stunned Sangriga guard in bronze armor. He shook himself out of it and grabbed a horn from his belt.
“Let’s split!” Dask jumped into Olnar’s saddle.
Matil put her hand on Dewdrop, and then searing light engulfed her. She cried out in pain and covered her eyes. A shrill note resounded between the confused shouts of her friends.
“Intruders! Intruders! Collaborator!” The guard winded his horn again, but the horn’s blaring broke off abruptly.
Large hands threw Matil over Dewdrop and the beetle pitched into motion.
“Good, no, that way!” Simmad said. “Yes, straight on! Now turn left!”
Matil gripped the far side of the saddle, sliding across the seat on her stomach as Dewdrop turned sharply. Her eyes burned with the light. She kept them crunched shut.
More horns sounded behind them but soon receded. Wind whipped over Matil. She had never before gotten Dewdrop to top speed. Her heart raced with the beetle and she wished that she could see what was going on. A jumble of emotions flooded her without relenting. Out of them rose one so sour and cold that she gritted her teeth. She hated this light-blindness. It made her weak. It threatened to overwhelm her with even more blinding fear. For the moment, that frozen anger kept her head on her shoulders.
“Let’s stop here and let your friend get in the saddle,” Simmad said.
They slowed. The air changed around them from open and smelling of grass to feeling contained and earthy. Matil let one eye squint open. She flinched. It was all wrong. Bands of light imprinted her vision and the burrow they had entered was dark. Not in the usual way, where she could tell that there was very little light even though everything remained sharp and rich. No, this was the real meaning of dark. Shadows shifted the more Matil tried to look, and the faces of her companions wavered like poor reflections.
Khelya crouched and scuffled farther into the burrow with Simmad tucked awkwardly under her arm. She set him down, which let his wings light the burrow. Matil and Dask slid from their beetles.
Dask rubbed his eyelids. “Was that what I thought it was?”
“A Sangriga magician,” Simmad said. He wobbled, his legs still wrapped in the ropes. “Only a feeble blast, though. We’re fortunate that watchman wasn’t more powerful.”
“Fortunate?” Dask laughed. “Yeah, we’re sure fortunate a guard showed up! What are you doing here, anyway? I bet you led the guard right to us.”
Simmad pointed to the burrow entrance with his tied hands, eyes very round. “He called me a collaborator! I am a collaborator! If I went back, I’d be severely punished and perhaps even lose my spot at the University! I can’t go back now, not without bringing something, some proof that I’m a true scholar.”
“Mr. Simmad helped us get away,” Khelya said. She sat down with a sleepy yawn. “When it was hard to see, he gave me directions so I could pull the beetles. Can’t we take him with us? Please? It would make up for me grabbin’ that guard and throwing ‘im.”
“You threw the guard?” Matil said, blinking up at her. She was still trying to get rid of the light remnants.
Dask snorted. “Nice.”
“But I didn’t want to,” Khelya moaned.
“Hey, why are you so concerned about Sangriga?” Dask said. “You didn’t have any problem holding an Obrigi bandit at knifepoint or taking down Skorgon.”
“Sangriga are different. They’re good guys. They make the rules. They gave the Obrigi everything we have.”
“Good guys,” Dask said incredulously.
“I wouldn’t say that.” Simmad scratched his goateed chin with the rope binding his hands. “It’s more of a symbiotic alliance, isn’t it? We give to the Obrigi, the Obrigi give to us.”
Khelya took on a very small look for one so large. “Really?” she said with a tinge of hope. “We help you?”
“Of course! Though…” He lowered his hands. “I don’t know why, but some of my colleagues are dead set on keeping the Obrigi out of our universities.”
Dask tapped his head. “Think about it. It’s ‘cause the Sangriga are tall dungbasks with wings. Now let’s fly outta here before they find us.” He pulled his knife on Simmad.
“Ah!” Simmad stumbled backward. “N-no need to get stabby! I’ll leave if you want me to, I promise!”
“I’m cutting you loose,” Dask said curtly. “You can do what you want afterward. Hold still.” He cut through Simmad’s bindings, sheathed the knife, and went back to the beetles and Matil. Now that her eyesight had fully returned, she looked at him in disbelief.
“You mean I can stay with you three?” Simmad said, brushing the ropes away.
“Can he?” Khelya said.
“Yeah, he can,” Dask said unenthusiastically. “Three cheers for stick-ears.”
“Oh, thank you,” Simmad said. “I won’t give you cause for regret!”
Matil smiled at Dask in gratitude. He gave her a small, crooked grin in return. Their expressions softened as they stood still. Matil realized that Dask’s eyes weren’t just green; they were the leaves on a tree, bright and shaded, close and far away. A vague memory washed over her. She no longer saw Dask but someone else’s worn-out orange eyes. Her heart was stung, and sad pain welled up in it.
She averted her gaze. That strange state of mind fell away, and she was left feeling like an empty box. Simmad spouted words at Khelya in excitement while the Obrigi nodded happily. She turned toward Dask again, not quite looking at his face. “You’re- you’re okay with letting him come?”
Dask’s wings were hunched up. “It’s nothing,” he said, sounding how she felt. Something wasn’t right, but just as she hesitantly went to steal a glance at him, Khelya waved her friends toward the beetles.
“We should get goin’ before they find us here,” she said.
“Yes!” Simmad said. “Abso-lutely! Let us away thither!”
“Take your thither,” Dask grumbled under his breath, “and stick it up your nose.”
The four of them traveled north through the meadows of Tyrlis for much of the night. Clouds skimmed over the half moon, but, even when it was concealed, a sourceless illumination softly outlined the grass, bushes, and trees. Taking cues from the clouds, owls and bats hunted overhead like ghosts and shadows.
Despite Dask’s distaste, he had let Simmad sit on Olnar with him, back-to-back. Simmad’s wings radiated light and as time went on Matil could tell that Dask was uncomfortable. She tried to give Simmad one of their Eletsol leaf cloaks to cover his wings with.
Simmad waved it away. “No, thank you, that won’t work. Our wings aren’t affected by anything up to a certain thickness.”
“You guys have complicated wings, don’t you?” said Dask.
“I suppose in some ways…oh, do you mind terribly if I examined your wings? You see – as one can imagine – I don’t often get the opportunity to observe a Ranycht. Or a Ranycht without wings. Or an Obrigi in a half-faded state! Perhaps this would be the research paper to begin my career!”
Dask looked taken aback. “I—yeah, I mind! I don’t want any Sangriga ever poking at my wings. And whaddaya mean ‘begin your career’? You don’t have a job at your age?”
Simmad blinked rapidly and made no sound. Matil hadn’t seen him this quiet yet. It wasn’t just that he didn’t speak; his bright, intense expression had switched off.
Since Dask was at the front of the beetle, facing forward, he couldn’t see Simmad. “Hello?” he said. “You fallin’ asleep back there?”
“It’s…” Simmad rubbed his face with his sleeve. “I do have a job…”
“What do you do at Icto Lan?” Matil said.
&nb
sp; He timidly looked down at her. “I read, mostly. The Elders and related legends are my specialty. I have several theories, as I’ve mentioned, but…no notable discoveries.”
“You must know a load of things about the Elders that regular alva don’t,” Khelya said with some awe.
“Well, I- I do, don’t I?” His face brightened again, along with his wings.
“Ack!” Dask shielded the sides of his eyes with his hands. “Turn those things down, I can’t see.”
“Sorry, sorry!”
“We should stop chatting, anyway,” Dask said, hunching over Olnar. “I think a village is coming up.”
They did come by a quiet, luminous village, so they stayed far away from the outskirts to avoid the gazes of the watchmen. Simple but graceful buildings arched across tree branches. Windmills lined the upper boughs. Matil wondered what it must be like to live in those ethereal homes. With the village safely behind them, the journey took on a dreamlike flow. Matil’s eyelids fell and rose, fell and rose as the beetles and Khelya marched. They finally shot open when Simmad let out a pathetic cry. She halted Dewdrop and turned around to see him sitting up on the ground behind Olnar.
“Mr. Simmad!” said Khelya as she rushed to his side. “You okay?” She pulled him to his feet and lightly dusted him off.
“He’s fine. He just went to sleep and took a little tumble.” Dask patted Olnar’s head. He saw Matil looking at him and smiled cheekily.
She tried to suppress her own small grin and then found Dask still watching her. His green eyes searched hers. Sorrow pricked at her heart again as the memory returned. A man with orange eyes. She looked up through the trees to break eye contact with Dask. Finding the moon low in the sky, she said, “I think we’ve gone far enough away. Let’s stop here.”
They set out four blankets – the Eletsol had packed extras for them – and each traveler bundled up. Simmad was out as soon as his head touched the ground, and Khelya offered to take first watch. Matil longed for rest, but her mind was restless.
From somewhere behind her, she heard Dask’s blankets rustling.
“Matil,” he said in a voice too low for the others to hear.
