by Brindi Quinn
“Where are they?” I asked.
“There.” He pointed at the hurrying water. “Either the spirits are in the water, or they are the water itself because that is where their song’s origin is.”
“Song?” I asked.
“Yes. It is difficult to explain, but it is like a song. Although, it is not singing.”
“And what are they saying? Are they trying to guide you or something?”
“I do not know for certain, for it seems too obvious to be the answer we seek, but from what I can gather, the voices follow the water. They do not stray from that stream.”
“So we follow the stream to get to the realm of the angels?” It seemed too easy.
“No, that’s where you’re wrong, my pit.”
“What?” I asked. “You don’t think we follow it?”
“No, I do, indeed, believe we are to follow it. Where you are wrong is that it seems too easy. Have you forgotten that to get to this point we’ve had to cross the Mistlands, enter the afterlife, find a hidden break in the space, and cross over into yet another mysterious realm? Not to mention our only instruction’s been conveniently written in a language virtually no one understands. Does it still seem too easy?”
“Eh. I guess you’re right.”
I hated having to say those words in that order to Ardette. But he was right, no matter how much I hated to admit it, so what else could I do?
“Follow the spirits, huh?” Trib stared into the clear water. “I still don’t get why you can hear them. Only Magirs should be able to, right?”
“A mystery. Unnerving if you ask me.”
“Well, anywho, we probably shouldn’t fill up our canteens from this. Unless we want to drink ghost juice!”
“Ghost juice? How eloquent you are, lovely Trib. You can’t tell me you’ve grown thirsty, though, have you?”
“Actually, yeah. I’m feeling a little thirsty. Aren’t you, Ardette?”
“Huh? Oh. Right.”
“Uh-oh,” I said, drawing conclusions. “If we’re feeling thirsty, that means that time has begun to move again, and we exist? So does that mean Lusafael will be able to find us?!”
“No, no,” said Darch, who had apparently been eavesdropping. “An angel that’s made a pact with a person cannot return to its realm until the pact is broken.”
“What a well-informed Magir you are,” said Ardette.
The ‘well-informed’ Magir took the sarcasm as a compliment. He started to do a small gleeful dance and stumbled clumsily into Nyte.
“Oopsie! Sorry, Nyte.”
“It is fine.” Nyte helped to steady him but stared at Darch suspiciously.
I barely paid it mind, though. I was coming to another conclusion. An awful conclusion. Why were my conclusions always so awful?
“But if we’re feeling thirsty, one thing is certain,” I said. “Soon we’ll start to feel hungry and after that, we’ll begin to get tired. We have limited supplies left back out there at the buggy.” I gestured to the still-open hole that lead back to the beyond. “We should hurry.”
“All right, everybody!” yelled Trib, finally breaking the others from their quarrel. “Onward ho! I say we scout out a bit, and then return here to set up camp. What do you say?”
“It is as good a plan as any,” said Nyte. “Miss Havoc? Have you an opposition?”
“Nope. Let’s get going.” Now that we could feel the passage of time again, I was flicked with pangs of urgency. We still had so much to accomplish.
Following Trib’s guide, we started walking. From where were, we could see the brook continue on a ways, but in the distance there was a grouping of trees blocking our perception. We marked that our temporary destination. I strolled hand in hand with Nyte, enjoying the sun that somehow existed in this strange place. There were no sounds of animal life, just the brook’s babbling and an occasional soft gust of otherworldy wind passing through the trees and grass. The grass felt nice, and I left my hide shoes in my opposite hand, letting the waxy softness of the ground serve as padding.
Despite the urgency plaguing me, it had been a long time since I’d experienced such tranquility, and with that understanding, one word continually popped into my head:
Paradise.
We made light-hearted small talk and followed the brook, and the distant tree blocking grew larger and larger until we were nearly upon it. Something told me that there was something special beyond there. I don’t know how I knew, but that anticipation only continued to grow.
Something big. Something important.
At last we pressed through and discovered that the blocking was only a thin layer of trees. Beyond, there was open field. The stream accumulated and ended in a small, unrippling pond, no bigger than a glorified puddle, really. And there was something else. The horizon beyond the trees was littered with wells. Lots and lots of stone wells that were flawlessly preserved. I had been right. It was something special. But it was also something eerie.
“Awww.” Kantú let out a whine. “That’s kind of anticlimactic! Just a boring old pond? I was expecting something better than that!”
“What, something better than those?” I pointed to the field of wells. It reminded me of a graveyard, and the association sent one lonely shiver along my backbone. “I’d say they’re far from anticlimactic, Kantú.”
“Those?” asked Scardo. “What exactly are you referring to, Miss Heart. I’m afraid I’m missing whatever it is.”
“She means the wells, of course!” spat Rend. “Are you blind?!”
“Yeah,” – I nodded – “the wells.”
“Wells?” said Trib. “Where?”
“Right there, you fool! Look!” Rend’s short temper was nearing the end of its tolerance.
Grotts squinted and scratched his forehead. “I don’ see ‘em.”
“What?” asked Nyte, confused. “You cannot?”
Grotts shook his head and shot a sideways glance at Scardo, which was very clearly questioning our sanity.
“Oh,” I said, slowly understanding. This had happened before. With the mirrors at the prophecy site. Only the magic users of our party had been able to see them that time. Was this the same thing? “Okay, raise your hand if you can see the wells.”
Nyte, Rend, Darch, Ardette – however unenthusiastically – and I all raised our hands.
“Oh,” sang Darch, “I get it now! Good job, Aura!” He pushed his raised hand at me for a high-five.
“Er-” But he looked too excited for me not to give in, so I obliged. High-five out of the way, I turned to Grotts. “See if you can touch them.”
“Er. Sure, but, well,” – he looked around again – “where are they?”
“Over here.” I grabbed his elbow and pulled him directly in front of the nearest one. Then I rested my hand on the edge of the well and said, “Okay, walk.”
Grotts obeyed. He took a few steps forward, wincing in anticipation for contact. He was right there, and he should have run right into it, but instead, when he approached one side, he was immediately at the other side.
“What?” Rend at once became unnerved. “What omen is this?!”
“It’s no omen,” explained Darch. “Only magic wielders possess the ability to see them, and I assume, to enter them.”
“Enter?” I asked.
“Yeah. They’re portals, aren’t they? To other realms? Other places?”
“Portals?” said Nyte. “How do you know?”
“There.” Darch pointed. “Each of them is marked with a different character. Do you see?”
I followed his point and saw that the well was indeed marked with a small squiggly circle. I ran to the well a few paces away. That one, too, had a small marking – a block with several wispy lines through it.
“Fantastic,” mumbled Ardette. “More Angelic. And the only person that can understand Angelic can’t see them.”
“Can you duplicate it?” asked Trib. “Do that, and I’ll for sure be able to read it to you!”
Nyte bent forward and lost no time carefully duplicating the squiggly circle.
“Does it look familiar?” he asked, handing the parchment to Trib.
“Uh-huh. It says: Orella Mountain.”
“Orella Mountain?” I said. “That’s from one of my songs! See:
‘Heaven’s weep and angels’ sleep,
Casting the Orella Mountain.
After lies and ashened skies,
Seeking to find youth’s fountain.
Abounding in priceless,
Scouting for cypress,
Ne’er sayeth the truth.
Heaven’s weak and angels’ keep,
Casting the Orella Mountain.
After wyse and ashened cries,
Seeking to find sprite’s fountain.
Abounding in priceless,
Scouting for cypress,
Ne’er sayeth the truth.
And after ciel, there’s naught to heal,
Ne’er sayeth the truth.’”
I don’t know what I was thinking, but the whole thing just sort of came pouring out of me on its own. All of that non-time spent wandering in the beyond without singing had left me wanting to free my voice. I let it run wild.
There were some that didn’t appreciate that wildness.
Upon completion, Rend grabbed my sleeve. “Should you be singing so carelessly, Havoc?”
“Huh?” It’d been a long time since she’d called me that.
“Release her.” Nyte grabbed Rend’s wrist sternly. “We determined ourselves safe from Lusafael for the time being.”
“Hmph! I hope your theory is right, Cousin! You are a fool to chance it.”
She continued to ramble, but I ignored it. I was staring at the well and thinking back through the lyrics of the song.
“If they’re portals, that would make the Orella Mountain a real place, right?” I said. “But it’s just a nonsense Song of Old . . . isn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” said Darch, and of course he sounded matter-of-fact. “All myths are based in truth, after all!”
“Hm.” Could that really be true? “Well, let’s check the other one,” I said.
Nyte hurried to copy down the box with wisps.
“And this one?” He held it up to Trib’s face.
“Weird. It says Philly-del-phia or something? I’m really not sure on that one. I’ve never heard of it before!”
“It’s Philadelphia,” said Ardette quietly after a moment.
“Philadelphia? I repeated. “What’s that?”
“Hm. I suppose it’s worth mentioning,” he said to himself. Then to the rest of us, “Remember when we were in that bunker? I mentioned a Daem fire story about a boat? That story takes place in the mythical realm of ‘Philadelphia’. Of course, the whole thing’s obscenely impossible . . . but it’s a trifle interesting, isn’t it?”
“Weird!” Kantú was shivering. “And . . . and scary!”
“It’s all right, darlin’,” said Grotts, pulling her close.
Darlin’? I grinned, nearly losing sight of the task underway. Since when . . . ?
“Nyte, please do hurry to try another.” Scardo got us back on track.
“Of course.” Nyte ran to the next. This one’s etching looked like a leaf with two small prongs sticking out of the top. He showed it to Trib.
“That says: Sredna.”
“Sredna?” said Scardo. “As in the place where the Elven elders reside?!”
“Got me.” Trib shrugged. “That’s what it says, though.”
We tried another. “Earthden.”
And another. “Hotolah Waterway.”
Some of them we’d been to. Others we’d heard of only in legend. Still more we’d never encountered before.
Dozens of wells we checked until at long last, we reached the final one. It was sitting there unobtrusively at the far end of the field.
“This is the last, is it not?” said Nyte, flattening out the parchment for the final time. “Let us hope it is labeled in a manner we might understand.”
We were all hoping the same thing. As a whole, we’d been growing weary at the large number of place names we didn’t recognize. Any number of them could have led to the realm of angels because chances were, the land would go by something other than ‘Angel’s Realm’. Something ancient or cryptic or foreign.
Breathlessly we watched Nyte copy the final etching. It was simple. A rough, curved loop up, crossed at three points.
“Well?” prodded Grotts, leaning over Trib’s shoulder.
She scanned it. It seemed to take her longer than the rest, but that might’ve just been because of how on edge we all were. At long last, came her answer: “It says . . . Célesteen? Again, I’m not a hundred percent sure because it’s a word I’ve never come across before, but it’s like this: Cél-es-te-en.”
Célesteen? There was silence as we let the word sink in. Darch was first to react.
“Célesteen!?” He let a happy wiggle run through his body. “Well, that’s just fantastic!”
“You’ve heard of it?!” Scardo’s long mouth took on a joyous upturn, but –
“Nope!”
– it quickly fell.
“Do you think it is the realm of the angels?” asked Nyte.
“Well, sure! ‘Celestial kingdom’ is what that sign back there said, right? So this has just got to be it!”
“Hmph. And what proof have you?” asked Ardette, unconvinced.
“Proof? Huh. Well, none, I guess! But if we’re going to be taking a chance on any of them, that’s the one that sounds closest, so . . .”
“Aaaalright!” Kantú forgot about her nerves long enough to pounce into the air. Darch’s influence of gleefulness had been too much for her to resist. However, it wore off quickly. In no time at all, she was back at Grotts’ side, feebly shaking.
“Unless we are sure, we shouldn’t chance it!” Scardo bowed. “That is my opinion, Miss Heart.”
“Actually,” said Trib. “I think this is the best bet. See, right here,” – she pointed to the top of the word – “that’s the same character as the one back at the sign, the beginning of ‘celestial’. Sort of like an abbreviation. And this bottom part,” – she shifted her point – “is almost exactly like the character for ‘kingdom’, except it’s modified slightly, giving it a larger connotation. There isn’t a specific world for ‘realm’ as far as I know, but this might be translated as celest. broad-space. Or maybe, grown kingdom celest?”
“Well, I’ll be!” Grotts pulled back his lips into a delighted smile. “That’s great!”
“So if we go down the well, we’ll finally, maybe get to the realm of the angels?” I said. “Then let’s do it! It’s the best chance we’ve got, isn’t it?” I leaned over the side of the well and peered in. In response, Scardo reached a worried hand out to me. Seriously, how clumsy did he think I was? I wasn’t going to fall in or anything.
“Ah, ah, ah.” Ardette shook his finger. “Forgetting something, aren’t we? Only magic users can see the ‘portals’. And, as Grotts has so generously proven, the others can’t interact with them either. Now, tell me, how are they to enter? Oh, wait. They can’t. I suppose, it will have to just be us, my pit.”
Just us?
“We can’t just leave them behind!”
“‘Fraid he’s right, Aura. Yer gonna have ta go on without us.”
“No way.” It wasn’t even up for discussion. “What are you guys supposed to do? Just hang out here? And another thing, Trib’s the only one that can read Angelic. We’re going to the realm of the angels, so we’re going to need her, right? Now way. Just no way, okay?”
“You’re right, Aura.” Darch nodded. “We can’t leave them here. There’s no telling if we’ll even be able to make it back. They . . . they could be stuck in here forever.”
&nbs
p; Kantú let out an ‘eek’ at the thought. Likewise, Scardo released a sick-sounding gurgle.
“How about we head back, make camp, and talk about it tomorrow!” suggested Trib loudly. “I’d say we’ve accomplished enough for one day! What do you kids think?”
Rend folded her arms. “Make camp? At this point? Is that really wise?”
“What else can we do, Rend?” said Nyte.
I nodded. At least it would buy us time to figure something out. Stall us from going down the wells and leaving the others behind.
“I feel tired,” I said. “Let’s go back.” It was only a half-lie.
Thus, we made our way back, between the wells, through the blocking trees, along the brook and to the place of entry. Grotts, Ardette and Nyte went back through the hole to the beyond to get some supplies from the buggy while the rest of us waited.
Our predicament left a little bit of tenseness in the air. Everyone was quiet.
Separating ourselves from the rest, Darch and I sat together, cushioned by soft grass and lost in silent thought.
We had to think of something. Some way to get the others through the portal with us. There was always the option of sending them back through the mist wall and into the real world, but without the Elves or my song to protect them, they’d quickly get swallowed by the sadness. So what could we do? Definitely NOT leave them.
“Anything?” I whispered.
He shook his head, which was resting in his palm, and chewed at his lip.
“Me neither.” A few seconds of silence slipped by. “And there’s nothing in your aler’gim knowledge that’ll help?”
“Not that I can remember.”
“And will you tell me about Ardette now?” I tried to sneak it in there.
“Not for me to tell you, and you know it.” He wasn’t at all surprised that I’d asked. Smiling, he added, “Tricky Pure Heart.”
“Boo. Fine. So . . . what can we do? Come on, we’ve got to figure out something.”
“You’re absolutely right, but what can we-? Huh!” He straightened up. That was a good sign.
“What is it?!”
“Oh, oh! I know! I know! Let’s ask the spirits! It’s so simple! They’ve been around here long enough! I’m positive one of them will know, and they’ll probably be more than happy to help!”
