Heart of Farellah: Book 3

by Brindi Quinn

  “Right. Sorry. Yeah, that should be fine. I’ll take those.”

  Oh well. Guess I’ll find out sooner or later.

  ~

  “Well?!” sneered Rend.

  Scardo looked up from the map, annoyed. “Would you please be quiet? I am trying to-”

  “Ugh! Are we there or are we not there?! Can you not work faster?!”

  “Pardon me? If you haven’t noticed, it’s a little difficult to see in this fog, and I hardly have the luxury of landmarks to help plot our position. I assure you I’m doing the best that I can, so if you would simply allow me a few moments to-”

  “Sapes! Completely incapable!”

  “And would the Elven sorceress like to give it a try!?” hissed Scardo, breaking his polite manner.

  “Enough, Rend. Can’t ya try an’ be civil? Fer once?”

  “No!” For the thrill of it, she shot three angry blasts into the sky. Nyte, who was having fun with his new power, sent a fourth blast, which was way bigger than Rend’s, into the air after hers. It headed straight for the others in a pummeling blow, but whereas I’d expected them to combine, his knocked hers back to the ground.

  “Ha!” he said triumphantly. “Take that, Cousin!”

  But the rest of us quickly scattered to avoid the three falling balls of red energy.

  “ARGH! Do not use your magic so irresponsibly! Pray tell, what goodness did that accomplish?!”

  “It was fun,” was Nyte’s simple reply. “And are you not one to talk?”

  “As your teacher, I forbid you to use your power unless I instruct you to do so! Do not make me-”

  “Shh!” Nyte dashed behind her and cupped her mouth.

  Of course she retaliated – her choice of weapon a deadly elbow to the gut – but Nyte held strong.

  “Shhh!” he said again. “Do you not hear it, Rend?” Then he looked at me frantically. “Ardette, cover her!”

  And just like that, Ardette’s arms were around me. Before I could react, he pulled me back into a strange, locking hold.

  I let him have my dirtiest of looks. I’m sure Nyte meant, you know, stand in front of me with your saber out or something . . . not embrace me!

  “H-hear what?” stuttered Scardo. His bow was already drawn, but he aimed it at nothing in particular, instead pointing it this way and that and spinning around like a caged zebron.

  The others were distracted, so Ardette took the opportunity to start being Ardette-ish. “Shall we slip into the fog, my cherry?” He rested his chin on my shoulder, and in return, I gave my shoulder a hard shrug and pelted him in the mouth.

  “Feeling violent, are we? Splendid.”

  In one ruffling motion, he pulled the loose ends of his cloak around me so that I was embraced in a cocoon of Druelcan garb.

  “What are you doing, you idiot?” I growled, wiggling to get away. “Is this really the time? Can’t you tell that something’s wrong?”

  “What? He said to ‘cover’ you, didn’t he? That’s what he gets for barking orders.”

  “Seriously?” I rolled my eyes. “Why are you doing this?”

  Chances were slim that he’d actually explain or answer seriously, but even so, there was an inkling of possibility that he might suddenly start behaving usefully and cue me in. However, before I could find out if that was the case, we were cut off by another loud,

  “Shhh!” This one had come from Darch.

  Darch followed his shushing with a bewildered spectacle adjustment at the peculiarity of our embrace. I shook my head and rolled my eyes, trying to portray that it was purely Ardette’s doing.

  Meanwhile, Rend was still listening for the phantom sound that only Nyte could hear, and a thought occurred to me. It was a bad thought. A very bad thought.

  What if the sound that we were all listening for wasn’t actually an audible noise at all? What if it was the ‘spirits’ again? Now that I thought about it, it was a little weird that Nyte hadn’t complained about hearing them or acted distant or jumpy or anything for a while now. Actually, it seemed like he’d been fine ever since escaping Lusafael.

  But the way he was looking around in paranoia now . . . Could they be back? And if so, would Nyte revert back into that mood?

  But at the peak of my fears, Rend stiffened and nodded. Then she pushed Nyte’s hand from her mouth and pointed to the mist directly in front of us.

  “Mm-hm,” Nyte gave his concerned agreement.

  Thank Creator.

  But then again, there was a good chance that whatever IT was was worse than the mistwalkers that had previously plagued my Elf.

  “What unseen lurker is this? I do not recognize . . .” Rend squinted. “A bird, perchance?”

  Nyte shook his head with uncertainty.

  It didn’t take long for the strange noise to finally reach the rest of us. Rend was right – it was similar to the flapping of wings – kind of like a whooshing . . . only, if it was wings, they were much, much larger than any wings I’d ever encountered before. That left only one image in my mind:

  “Dragon?!” I whispered, grabbing Ardette’s cloak tighter.

  Ardette let out a deep laugh. “Good one, my-”

  “Shut yer mouth, would ya?! An’ prepare fer battle!”

  But Ardette didn’t release me, and it was a good thing he didn’t because just then, an opportunity arose – an unpredictable opportunity that would turn out to be surprisingly important.

  While the rest of them got into position, Ardette drew his saber and pulled me even closer into him.

  I let out a disgruntled, “Tch.” Sure, I was afraid of the dragon or whatever it was, but it was unnecessary for me to be literally sheltered to that extent. It was annoying, and I was going to pull away, but that’s when I felt something there – between my back and his chest. A hard, uncomfortable something that dug into my spine.

  What-?

  The whistle. It was that black whistle.

  With the discovery, my body started to react on its own. Keeping myself close to Ardette, I spun around and impulsively placed my hand on his shirt – at the collar.

  Ardette’s saber instantly fell from its readied position. “Oh?” He raised a brow. “What’s this?”

  I didn’t know why, but I was experiencing a sudden urge to get a closer look at the sneaky whistle hiding beneath there. After all, the last piece of jewelry one of my guardians had sported had caused major problems for me. And truthfully, I didn’t have a good feeling about this one either.

  Whether the others noticed us, I don’t know, because the fog had intensified along with the wings’ whooshing, and it was getting harder and harder to see anything that was more than a few paces out.

  This is your chance.

  His top button was already undone, but my hands undid his second on their own.

  “A-Aura?” This time his saber hit the ground with a thump. He placed his hands on my shoulders. Was he shaking?

  My hands moved to the third one while his large-pupiled eyes studied my face.

  Ardette was probably wondering the same thing I was. What was I doing? Why was it so important for me to examine the whistle all of a sudden? Until that moment, I’d only been a little curious, but now it was urgent – imperative – that I see it.

  And then the string that held the whistle was uncovered, but I couldn’t see the whistle itself. I twisted my finger around the rope and started to tug upward, letting my knuckle slide against his cool skin.

  Almost.

  The whooshing was louder, but I ignored it.

  There it is.

  It was almost mine, but then, during the last moments, the prize was stinted from delivery. Ardette grabbed my feather-tattooed wrist just as the top of the whistle slid into view.

  “I see,” he said. “So that’s your goal, is it?”

  I didn’t answer him.

  “Aura?”

  “Let go of my wrist.”

  “AURA.”

  “Huh?” I shook my head. “Huh?!”


  My hands were on a nearly-shirtless Ardette’s chest.

  What the-?!

  “What was I-?”

  “I would give it to you, you know,” whispered Ardette. “I would.”

  “What is it?”

  “If you don’t know, then neither do I. But that’s part of the fun, isn’t it, my angel?”

  “AURA!?” called a voice through the fog.

  “Nyte?! I’m here!”

  “He’s been calling your name awhile now,” said Ardette.

  “He . . . has?”

  By this time, the fog was completely blanketing us, and I couldn’t see anything but Ardette. And it was quiet; the whooshing had stopped. Had the winged thing turned away?

  “Au-ra! Ardett-o! What are you doing to her, you pervy Irving?”

  “Kantú?!” I shouted. “Ardette, Kantú’s back!”

  “Follow my voice, Miss Havoc! This way!”

  I immediately started away, but Ardette’s hold on my wrist was tight.

  “Hm,” he said. “It would seem they want us to rejoin them. But . . . wouldn’t you like to finish what you’ve started, first?”

  I looked back at him. “What I started?”

  With a sexy smile, he gestured to his chest.

  “N-no! I don’t even know what I was . . .”

  “Tease,” he said.

  “No! Whatever that was, it wasn’t . . . you know . . . I didn’t-”

  Sniggering, he started to redo the buttons.

  “Wait!” My mouth acted on its own, just as my hands had.

  He looked up.

  “I want to see it,” I said. “Can I see it?”

  His face fell. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I said so. Let’s call it leverage, shall we?”

  “Leverage? For what?”

  “You’ll see.”

  With that, he replaced his clutch on my wrist and began pulling me through the fog toward the rest of the party.

  Chapter 3: The Niece

  “It’s a wind buggy!” chimed Kantú. “Isn’t it great?!”

  “Wind . . . buggy?”

  The scene awaiting Ardette and me when we got back to the others was an odd one. Kantú had returned, birdless, and she and the rest were gathered around a thing – a strange, boat-like thing with four wings sticking from its sides.

  I couldn’t decide which I was more confused about – the strange contraption, or the fact that Kantú was before me, chipper as can be and acting like this was all normal. I couldn’t decide, so I just sort of stared, all the while clinging to Kantú like she might go speeding away again on all fours at any moment.

  “This thing was causin’ the mist ta act up?” asked Grotts, cautiously eyeing the ‘wind buggy’. Indeed, the mist was gradually thinning back to a manageable amount now that it had ceased its flapping.

  Grotts was answered by an enthused nod. He too had yet to remove his calloused paw from Kantú’s shoulder.

  “And ya flew here in it?”

  “Thaaaat’s right!”

  Though I was more concerned with questions like: ‘how did you fly it?’, ‘where did it come from?’, and ‘what’s going on in general?’, I was still soaking all of it in too much to voice any of them, so I let Grotts continue the inquisition uninterrupted.

  “Flew? As in flew flew?” he pressed. “Well, how the heck’s it stay in the air, anyway?”

  “I dunno,” shrugged Kantú. “Why don’t you ask-”

  But before Kantú could finish the suggestion, a hoarse, squeaky voice answered, “The same way most things fly! The wings, of course!”

  I looked up, to the center of the buggy, in search of the voice’s owner.

  “Is there someone with you, Kantú?!” I was now even more confused . . . if that was possible.

  “So it would seem,” droned Ardette. “In my experience, where there’s a voice, there’s usually a body to go along with it. Then again, maybe you’re accustomed to phantom voices, my pit? If that’s the case, we might need to get that muddled little head of yours checked out.”

  “Shut up.”

  Nyte leaned over and whispered, “Honestly, Miss Havoc, do not tell me that you have come to believe that Kantú could have commanded the beast on her own. It would be unlikely, would it not? And if it would be unlikely, would that not leave you to believe that the beast came to be in this place on its own? Well, would it not, Miss Havoc? Would it not?”

  He poked me in the nose.

  “You shut up too!”

  But he was right. They both were. Seconds later, a goggled pilot slid down the side of the buggy.

  Too curious for formality, I gawkingly watched her catch herself and then begin dusting her hands together and studying the rest of us. She was short and had the solid build of an adolescent boy.

  “Who is . . . ?” I started to mutter.

  But the pilot cut me off.

  “Yo-ho, everybody!” she yelled way louder than was necessary.

  “Yo-ho?” said Nyte. Again, he leaned in, “Miss Havoc, what does ‘yo-ho’ mean?”

  “Uh . . . I’m not entirely-”

  Marching forward, the newcomer continued to belt,

  “Good looking people everywhere! What a happy day!”

  For real?

  I wanted to stop staring – I really did – to introduce myself, or ask her name, or any number of normal acquainting behaviors. But no matter how much I needed to rip my eyes away or behave even the least bit discreetly, I couldn’t. This person was too dynamic and charismatic . . . and loud. No wonder she was losing her voice.

  However, where I was caught off guard, Ardette seemed to be drawn to the flamboyant behavior.

  “Oh?” he said quietly, slinking forward. “And who’ve we here?”

  “Behave yourself, Ardetto,” warned Kantú in a hush. “She’s important.”

  “Hmph.”

  “Important?” I whispered to Nyte. He shook his head.

  Meanwhile, Grotts was eyeing the pilot thoughtfully and mumbling to himself. “Good lookin’? . . . Happy day? . . . Now where’ve I heard . . . Wait a minute . . . !”

  “Yes sir!” The pilot completely ignored both Kantú and Ardette and took in a huge gulp of foggy air. “A happy day to storm the mist!”

  “I knew it!” concluded Grotts. “Trib? Is that you?”

  “Trib?” said Scardo, turning to the massive man. “You mean she’s . . . ?”

  “Yup! This here’s Bergra’s niece.”

  “Bergra?” Darch cocked his head.

  Still slinking, Ardette rolled his eyes. “Some pup from Crystair.”

  Trib responded only by way of a few short whistled puffs. Then she removed her goggles and helmet, and my gawking only intensified because there, hiding beneath, was a head of fluffy, bright pink hair.

  How the heck had she’d managed something like that?

  I’d only ever had access to muted dyes, but this was something much different and far from muted. The dancing stars of Elenque had harbored a pink that was similar, and I’d also seen flowers that shade before. But hair? Nope. I didn’t know how . . . but I was kind of glad for the peculiarity.

  Finally, someone whose hair color was even more abnormal than mine.

  “All right!” she sang. “I’m ready for introductions! I’ll allow you the honors, Grottsard!”

  “Grottsard?” I blurted along with two other people. One of them was definitely Ardette. The other might have been Scardo.

  Grotts cleared his throat. “Eh-he-he. I told ya, Trib. ‘Grotts’ is fine. Nobody calls me . . . Grot . . . Grotts-ugh . . . ya know, my birthin’ name anymore.” He added under his breath, “Nobody really called me that ever, ta be honest.”

  “And I told you, Grottsard, that I don’t believe in nicknames. What’s the point of naming something if they’re just going to go changing it on you? It’s disrespectful to your parents!”

  “Uh, okay, Trib, but I’m not real sure how t
hat-”

  “Trust me. You’re parents are very, very disappointed in you.”

  At first, ‘Grottsard’ looked shocked by the outlandish statement, but any surprise quickly turned to anger. “Now wait just a gosh darn minute, Trib!” he growled. “Ya can’t go makin’ claims like that!”

  Trib let out a hoarse laugh. “Ahoy, Grottsard. Ahoy.”

  “Ahoy? What’s that even gotta do with anythi-”

  “Okay, Kantú, since Grottsard is being difficult, maybe you’d like to introduce the others?”

  “Aaaaalright!” Kantú did a twirl. “Aura, Scardo, Nyte, Darch, Ardetto, and-” The immature Squirrelean held her nose and let out a ‘blegh’ before finishing, “Rend.”

  “Do not dare defile my name, hybrid! You have not even the right to use it!”

  But Ardette pushed Rend aside.

  “Trib, are you?” he said, eyeing the girl up and down. “My, my, what a little thing you are.”

  ‘Little thing’?

  It’d been a long time since we’d met another female that wasn’t trying to kill us, and Ardette’s charm was already in full swing, and it was kind of . . . hmmm. There was something about it I didn’t like.

  “Ardette will do just nicely,” he said. “Thank you, lovely.”

  With that, he held out his hand – most likely for one of his introductory kisses – but Trib instead gave him a hearty fist bump and said,

  “Not interested, Mr. Ardetto.”

  “Very well, then.” He shrugged.

  And that was that.

  But still . . .

  What was this lingering feeling?

  “It’s nice to meet you, Trib,” I said, trying to be cordial. Despite my efforts, I turned away from her quickly. “So, Kantú, the feather man sent you to go get her?”

  “Nope! The feather man went and got her himself! He used me, though. Isn’t that neat? I just took a little nap, and it was all over!”

  A little nap? Since when was possession an enjoyable experience? It was disturbing.

  Nyte snorted.

  “But Grotts,” I said, “didn’t you go talk to her the last time we were in Crystair? So then, Kantú went all the way there to get her?”

  Grotts answered, “Well, yeah I did . . . but how’d ya know that?”