by Brindi Quinn
The mirrored faces shrieked.
I ran faster, and the vines grew even more aggressive. They coiled themselves around me. I struggled to reach the blue orb.
“Aura?” A voice resonated through the night.
That voice is going to save me.
The world started to fade just as a particularly thick vine wrapped itself around my arm.
“What are you doing?”
What am I doing? I echoed the phantom voice.
In harrowing response, the mirrors slid from the walls, filling the cavern with the sound of glass breaking on rock as they crashed to the ground. The aggressive vine tugged on my arm, pulling me deeper into the cavern before it all faded to nothingness.
I opened my eyes. Two green eyes stared back.
“Are you all right?” It was Nyte. He looked concerned.
You’re worried about me? My face grew hot at the realization. Argh! Stop it! Why get so affected by a stranger?
I looked around and tried to push the heat from my face. We were standing in the field, several feet from the tent. The grass shimmered as it swayed, illuminated by the light of the western moon.
Nyte released his grip on my arm. It felt a little warm where he’d touched, but nowhere near the warmth I’d felt from him previously. He examined my face cautiously. “Does that happen a lot?”
“Never before,” I said, trying to hide my embarrassment. “Must be the change of scenery.”
“I do not blame you. With all that has happened.”
With all that has happened.
I looked up at him, and he was wearing a pained expression – like he really regretted that ‘all that has happened’ part. I didn’t understand the reaction. Shouldn’t he be happy that he’d managed to capture me? After all, even though I’d agreed to cooperate, I was his prisoner.
And what was with me? Shouldn’t I be afraid to be captured? Shouldn’t I be worried? But then . . . why did I feel comfortable standing next to him when I didn’t even know him? He was an enemy, right?
But you’re not an enemy. I feel like I trust you for some reason. Haven’t we met before? But I was sure we hadn’t. I’d have remembered meeting an Elf.
I stared at the cloud-dotted sky, soaking in the bright moonbeams that flooded the field, until Nyte spoke unexpectedly: “You are really in your element, are you not?” He nodded at the moon.
“My element?” I said. “I guess.”
His eyes were on me, requesting elaboration. I blushed, but immediately scolded myself for the action. Gah! Cut it out! You should be wary of him right now!
Still, being next to him in the moonlight made my heart pound, though it wasn’t from fear. I cleared my head and tried to be calm.
“I’ve always found night more comforting than day,” I said. “I enjoy the sun, of course, but my love with the western moon is like a secret affair. . . . Ah! . . . That is-” I instantly regretted saying something so tacky, so I laughed nervously and contemplated how to recover. “Are all of your captives so cheesy?”
A playful, unannounced grin peeked from the corner of his mouth. My blush deepened.
He threw his arm across the top of his head before answering, “Well, you are the most cheese-like of them all, considering that you are the first one.”
First? Was that why he seemed so remorseful about the situation? “I am?”
He nodded and wrinkled his nose like the notion embarrassed him. Then, ushering in another wave of lightheartedness to the heavy and taboo topic, he said, “Yes, how does it feel to have the honor of being my first captive?”
Somehow, despite the circumstances, his playful attitude was rubbing off. “I could tell you were a novice kidnapper,” I teased. “You aren’t very good at it.”
“I got you, did I not?”
“That’s true. You did.”
He smirked, but as he mulled over the words, his smile faded and another hint of regret settled on his face. Things were silent a moment. Until the lust to feel lightheartedness invaded me again.
“If it’s any consolation, you’re the least evil-ish captor I’ve ever had.”
His grin returned. “It is a high compliment, considering who my competition is. Speaking of Rend,” – he nodded to the tent – “it would be best for you to return to bed. It is almost time for her shift.”
I peered in the direction of the sleeping terror and shivered. While I longed to stay with the moon just a bit longer, the thought of an angry Rend was one of the few things that could have broken me from the night sky at that moment. I could almost feel her red energy ball smacking me in the jaw again. Thus, I left Nyte standing alone in the long grass, noticing for the first time when he turned to bid me goodnight how much he appeared to be in his element too.
I paused at the mouth of the tent and stole one last look at the western moon before entering.
Goodnight, my love . . . my moon.
~
How each Elf managed to continue on with only a half night’s sleep, I couldn’t say, but they continued splitting guard duty for the next five nights, never appearing worn down. Eventually, the fields turned to green, rolling hills. It was a welcome change in scenery, but a much harder terrain to traverse.
For the most part, we refrained from conversing with the Elves since Rend reprimanded us for any questions we asked, threateningly forming her hands into a circle each time. Kantú and I found, however, that we were able to stay under her radar if we stayed a safe distance behind and kept our voices low.
We followed Nyte and Rend faithfully, taking in the sights as we traveled.
“The hills are so beautiful,” I said as we scaled yet another.
“The hills are so hilly!” whined Kantú.
“Ah-ah-ah.” I held up a matter-of-fact finger. “You just say that because we’re going up. You’ll change your mind on the trip down.”
“Wrong!”
But sure enough, when we reached the top, she let out a gleeful cry, turned herself into a ball and proceeded to roll down, bouncing and laughing as she went. Rend glared back at us, though I could see hidden amusement on Nyte’s face.
I wondered what he’d be like if completely unhindered by Rend. She always seemed to reel him in at any sign of personality; and although it was apparent she was above him rank-wise, I wondered just how deeply his loyalty to her went.
When we came to the base of a particularly steep hill, Kantú groaned at the looming climb ahead. “Think of how much fun the trip down will be on this one! Right?” I tried to encourage her, but my words rang of false enthusiasm, revealing my own feelings of reluctance at the thought of climbing another.
Rend and Nyte had already started up. In the midst of their soft conversation, Rend’s voice rose without warning. “Another rest? You cannot be serious, cousin! Those creatures have had two already today!”
I couldn’t hear Nyte’s response.
“Who would have thought Sapes and Squirreleans would be so inferior to us? How do they accomplish anything with such slow pace and weak constitution?”
Nyte’s voice was still too low to discern, but it seemed he had somehow managed to convince her. She shot us a glare and then bolted up the hill at full Elf’s speed, leaving him to jog back to us. “Rend has gone to scout the hills ahead. You two may take a break.”
“Aaaalright!” Kantú threw her fist into the air. “Thanks, Nytie!”
Nyte was as surprised by his new nickname as I was.
Kantú and I settled against the foot of the hill and stole a rare opportunity to talk to the Elf who’d shown us such mercy, desperate to pry as much information out of him as we could before Rend got back. “Are we getting close?” I asked, hopeful.
“We should near the Elven kingdom tomorrow. It is on the border of Elenque. Tonight will be your last night in Carouth.”
At my raised brow, he quickly added,
“For a while.”
“Elenque, huh?” said Kantú. “What’s it like?”
&n
bsp; “The kingdom is almost entirely wooded, and it is very peaceful. We must first stop at the border town of Edaw, where Rend and I are from, before continuing on to Sredna to deliver you to the council.”
The council? It tweaked my nerves. That’s right.
I’d played the scenario out multiple ways in my head. The best possible outcome was that the elders would realize I wasn’t an evil destructress and send me straight back to Farellah. Another possibility was that they’d still deem me Heart of Havoc, to which I’d respond by assuring them that I wouldn’t be using any destructive powers to destroy the world. I’d offer them my word and then happily trot back to Farellah. There were, of course, other possibilities, but none of them were so simple, and some of them were too frightening to even think.
“What will they do with me?” Though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer, I still had to ask.
Nyte stared at the ground. “The elders will test you – your spirit. There are certain,” – he paused – “characteristics the Heart of Havoc will possess. They will judge you and decide what to do with you. I do not really know any more than that.”
I studied him. That’s not true, though, is it? Something in the way he didn’t take his eyes from the ground cued me in that he wasn’t telling us everything. I took a deep breath. “Lay it on me. What could they do, hypothetically?”
“Well . . .” He looked uncomfortable. “They might try to cap you if they see you as a serious threat.”
“Cap her?” said Kantú.
“Take away her voice. And if you really are the Havoc there are other things they may do.”
Other things.
“Don’t worry, Aura. There’s no way you could be a bad guy and not even know it, right?” Kantú sounded confident, but the nervous twitch in her ears betrayed her uncertainty.
I bit my lip. I knew I wasn’t, but could I convince them?
Nyte finally looked up. “The council is fair. They will not harm you if you are who you say you are.” There was reassurance there.
Kantú nodded in agreement.
I tried to force a smile, but it came off looking like I was suffering from some ailment – possibly a toothache.
Other things. Those words stayed with me.
I was quiet for the rest of the day. Kantú flitted about with goofy remarks, trying to cheer me up, and I pretended to laugh, but I was growing more and more anxious with each step. Each hill we climbed was one step closer to my fate. I had assumed from the start that the elders would realize their mistake, but now I was questioning my ability to convince them. It hadn’t seriously occurred to me until today that I might indeed be in grave danger. What would I do if they didn’t believe me? I didn’t have a plan, and I didn’t know how to go about making one.
My depression continued through the night and carried over into the next dawn. I kept to myself, hopelessly brooding, and by breakfast it was really starting to bother Kantú.
“Come on, Aura, we’re going to get to see the kingdom of Elves! You should be at least a little excited,” she urged.
I said nothing.
“You can’t fool me! I know you’ve always wanted to go on adventures. You love fairytales! This is one of your dreams!”
My dreams? She was right about that. Despite everything, I was still curious about the Elven Kingdom. The fairytales I’d heard about as a child had probably been wildly inaccurate, but they’d nonetheless planted a dream of someday going there. And this was my chance. For Illuma too, who’d never be able to go. Today was the day, and I didn’t want to face it in my condition. But what could I do? I couldn’t just ignore the fact that I was being brought to trial. I couldn’t fake it.
It was then that I realized: Sing!
For the first time since being captured, I thought of turning to the Songs of Old. How stupid that I hadn’t thought to rely on them sooner! I was a songstress, after all, and things like that should have come naturally to me. Yet I’d forgotten! What in Farellah would Miss Danice think!? I’d be certain to leave that part out of my tale’s recount, should I make it back to Farellah.
I hummed quietly so as not to alert Rend, running through every mood-lifting song I knew. Most of them were nice, but didn’t actually do anything. I was delighted when one, Song of Sparrow’s Joy, had some merit to it.
‘Waters of froth rock you from serenity,
Nightmare storm drives you to eternity,
Move on, not back,
Never trust in the bittersweet.
Nighttime mares that tore you from the night,
Are mere fleeting sparrows as void fades to light,
Look up, not down,
Never trust the bittersweet.
Sparrows will carry the way to serenity,
But only until they return to eternity,
Opal eternity,
Opal eternity,
Never trust in the bittersweet.’
As the mild tune filled my head, my bad mood gradually melted.
Sparrows will carry the way to eternity . . .
By mid-afternoon I was actually feeling chipper, not at all caring that the optimism I felt wasn’t genuine. Kantú read my mood as pure and was delighted that I’d decided to turn to the positive. I refrained from telling her the true source of my change.
Never trust in the bittersweet . . .
We kept on, hill after hill, until at long last we reached the top of the last mound. It was then that we caught first sight of the Elven kingdom, and my internal singing changed to silent mutters of admiration, for there, stretching the expanse of field, was a great, straight wall of evenly-spaced pines forming an almost too-perfect barrier marking the end of the Carouth region. A mysterious land I knew only from legend.
If you could see it, Illuma!
“At last!” Kantú cried merrily. And she proceeded to dance about with spastic tail flicks . . . until Rend hit her in the arm with a mini blast of red light, and she was forced to stagger backwards.
“Kantú!” I yelled.
“Ouchie! What was that fo-”
“Silence!” Rend’s voice was tense. Her behavior caught us both off guard. She should’ve been excited to see her homeland. But instead, Rend was peering off into the distance as though searching for some hidden danger. Something’s wrong?
I didn’t have to wait long for an answer. The air had been still all day, but a sudden gust of wind carried the scent of dead, charred wood, alerting us that something was, indeed, terribly wrong.
Nyte was first to see the wispy tail of smoke rising above the trees. He said nothing but took off in a sprint, darting swiftly into the forest. Before I could fully comprehend what was happening, Rend grabbed my arm and fervently followed after him, on her face a look of dread.
The dread was contagious.
Then it’s . . . fire!? Any elation induced by the Song of Sparrow’s Joy deserted me.
The smell only intensified as we passed through the forest wall. That was when I knew for certain it was too strong to be a mere bonfire. It was something much bigger.
It carries with it the scent of ruin!
Rend, clearly annoyed by my much slower pace, dragged me behind while winding through the rows of trees with skill and determination. Kantú climbed to the top of the treetops and followed after us, leaving behind a trail of cones and debris as she leaped from tree to tree not at all gracefully. After several distressing minutes, we caught up with Nyte, who was standing on the edge of a clearing with eyes wide.
When I found what he was staring at, my stomach fell.
“Edaw has been . . .” But he didn’t need to finish. There was little that remained of the Elven border town.
I could see the remains of wooden forts suspended high in the trees, though most had been reduced to ash, and the ones still standing were scorched where fire had licked them. The hanging rope bridges had served as kindling, becoming deadly fuses as the fire ravaged the village. The largest of the trees were still on fire, and they were bein
g devoured by the flames that moved toward the small part of the village that had yet been untouched.
“No!” Rend dug her nails into my arm and fell to her knees. Her cries echoed through the clearing. Though she had treated me terribly until now, I couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. For such immense pain.
On impulse, I moved to place a hand on her shoulder, but her fury-filled glance made me take it back. “Pity me not!”
“What . . . What happened there?” Kantú pointed to the trees on the outreaches of the village. There was a clear line where the fire had stopped, leaving the trees outside the village untouched.
“It is a magical barrier,” said Nyte. And he sounded . . . damaged.
My first instinct was to offer something, anything, in the way of comfort, yet I held myself back, realizing how absurd the gesture would be coming from a prisoner like me.
“N-Nytie?” Kantú’s voice quivered.
Nyte’s mossy hair hid his expression. “The barrier is meant to keep danger out,” he continued quietly, “but the fire was set within Edaw, so the flames were instead contained.”
I read into his words. The fire was set. “You don’t mean-!” I looked around. “This was intentional?!”
“It was no accident. We do not use fire within the village, as a rule, for fear of damaging the trees. I am certain an outsider did this.” His voice cracked. He was still shaking.
Contemplating senseless destruction like that was something I didn’t know how to handle. I didn’t know what to do with myself or how to comfort the grieving Elves as, frozen, they stared at the flames. I wanted to help, but what could I do? There was nothing. Nothing . . .
Sing! Sing! Sing!
That’s right. There was something – some way I could be of use.
“Go, check for survivors,” I said to Nyte. “Kantú and I will put out the rest of the fires.”
He looked at me, startled. “How?”
“Just go! You need to help the people! I promise I won’t try to escape.” I bore my eyes into him. “You can trust me.” Our agreement, remember?
