Heart of Farellah: Book 1

by Brindi Quinn

  Nyte narrowed his eyes.

  So that’s what you’re playing at, Ardette. Okay.

  I pretended to consider both choices thoughtfully before answering.

  “I think I’ll take this uncomplicated, good-natured one over here.” I pointed to the bird spaced evenly between the two, even though it didn’t look good-natured at all.

  “Ah, I see.” Ardette looked amused. “Very well.”

  Kantú chose the ‘good-looking’ one, of course.

  We packed our belongings, and avoiding the corpse’s room, searched the house for extra supplies. Food was always useful, but extra cloth, rope, and parchment might also come in handy. I felt like a rotten pillager, rummaging through the house in such a way, but Kantú insisted it was acceptable behavior in our situation, though it didn’t make me feel any better. I only hoped any debt we accrued would be repaid when I transformed into the Heart of Salvation and rescued the world from its fate, but it still didn’t seem like a plausible chain of events.

  Just before we left, Nyte and Grotts buried the keeper behind the stable; a token of our gratitude. I hummed a short song of departing while Kantú and I watched from the window.

  “It’s sad,” I said when I finished the song.

  “That he’s dead?”

  “That he’s alone.”

  She nodded and put her arm around me.

  Alone. My own words made me think of Illuma. Alone. A captive. My poor sister, whose captors were probably nothing like mine.

  My captor. Nyte’s smirking face intruded the thought, cutting away the creeping despair.

  “Are you two ready?” Rend’s voice pushed the thought away completely.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Then come.” She took particular joy in the command since it’d been a while since she’d been able to boss us around.

  Kantú and I grabbed our packs and followed her out of the keeper’s house.

  May your journey through the Mistlands be safe.

  ~

  “Woohoo!” Kantú let out a cry as her osterflit leaped over another random piece of prairie debris.

  Before departing the ranch, Ardette and Scardo had released the rest of the birds to wander freely, since they’d be left without master to watch over them. Ardette had asked me one more time if I wished to change my selection, but I was stubborn, sticking with my original ‘good-natured’ choice, which turned out to be pretty wily.

  The bird had a tendency of randomly challenging the other riders as we went, every so often gaining speed and cutting off whichever of his flock was closest. This of course, bothered Rend to no end, but the rest of the group found it entertaining, as did I at first; though after enduring several charges, I grew as tired of it as the bitter Elf.

  Aside from these sudden outbursts, travel by bird made for a surprisingly smooth ride. The osterflits kept low to the ground when they ran, reducing any turbulence we might have otherwise encountered. Their feathery backs were cushy and warm and served as further absorption for any particular rough spots we trotted over. It was delightfully comfortable and far preferable to walking.

  The scenery flew by as we rode; blending into a mesh of browns, tans, and burnt greens. As Nyte had said, the rest of Rendalt was incredibly dry, but the osterflits had a special internal reservoir that allowed them to go very long distances without water. They also had incredible stamina, for even as we took our breaks, they were anxious to run again; spending entire nights tugging on whichever objects they’d been leashed to – rather than resting.

  Grotts hadn’t exactly warmed up to the osterflits, but his grumblings had reduced significantly now that they were no longer after his hair. The great man looked the most unnatural of all of us in his bonnet-like head-wrap and teetering top-heavily atop his bird, which seemed to be the least comfortable with the idea of letting a person ride it; or maybe it could just feel Grotts’ own discomfort.

  Though Nyte, Rend, Kantú, and I had never ridden osterflits before, we learned how to use the reins quickly. The birds were, for the most part, compliant, though Ardette’s charm seemed to carry over into the animal kingdom, for he could call them to him on command even if it meant going against our original orders.

  He used this skill to force me into conversation with him while we rode, calling my bird to him whenever he wanted my company. This was frustrating on several levels, but the part that irked me the most was having to raise my voice to be heard over the wind. These weren’t the best circumstances for idle chitchat – a detail that didn’t seem to bother Ardette in the least.

  “There’s room here for two, if you’re interested,” he coaxed on the eve of our third night.

  “I am not.”

  “Pity. I should hope your osterflit doesn’t accidentally become unharnessed during the night, or you might not have a choice.” He smiled at me, and his white teeth shined brightly against the dismal backdrop.

  “I guess I’d just have to ride with Kantú, then. Fortunately, her bird seems pleasant enough.”

  “Must you strive so diligently to break my heart?”

  “I’m certain your heart is intact.” I rolled my eyes. Never had I thought I’d meet someone as dramatic as Illuma.

  Scardo rode up next to us. “We will break for the night at Nor’ash Cross.” His low voice was barely audible; lost in the wind as the birds trotted on.

  “Scardo?” I strained my voice. “Are we going to be passing your hometown at all?”

  “No. Temsa is not in our path, though I wish it were.” His expression was wistful.

  I wondered how long he’d been away from home.

  “What’s it like there?” I asked, but my question was carried away with the wind.

  “Pardon me?” He cupped his ear and leaned over, holding onto his saddle so he wouldn’t fall off.

  But before I could repeat myself, Nyte joined us.

  “Care to race, Miss Havoc?” His voice was much stronger than ours, and it reached me clearly before it could be tossed away.

  A race?

  I definitely had no chance of ever beating Nyte on foot. Would the odds be evened now? I looked down at my osterflit. He was spastically pecking at nothing. I grinned at the thought of using that pent up energy to outrun the showy Elf. This might be my only chance.

  The conversation with Scardo would have to wait; I couldn’t resist the challenge.

  “Sounds fun.” My voice was confident.

  “Are you not afraid of losing?” teased Nyte.

  “There’s no reason to fear something that could never happen.”

  “Please, Miss Heart, I must insist that you refrain from doing anything reckless;” Scardo pleaded, “your safety is of the utmost import-”

  But Ardette interjected on my behalf. “Let them play. Nyte will make sure nothing happens to her, won’t you?” His smile was generous, but his words were threatening.

  “Of course.”

  “Ah, very well then,” said Scardo, “but do be careful.” He bowed out of habit, and in doing so, knocked his head into the back of his osterflit’s neck. The osterflit read this as a prompt to sprint and took off, carrying away the protesting Scardo.

  “Thanks, Ardette.” I studied his face in search of an ulterior motive. “That was kind of you.”

  Sure enough, Ardette answered, “Oh, you can be sure I have my own reasons. I want to see how well you two play together. By the way, Nyte, what will you take from her if you win?”

  Take from me?

  “I will take nothing from her.”

  “Come, now, what fun is a race without placing a bet? No? Very well, I’ll set the terms.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but Ardette’s next words made me close it.

  “If Aura wins, you must tell her about your past.”

  Nyte’s eyes widened. He was as shocked by the statement as I was. He stared at Ardette with a stony expression while I contemplated the proposal.

  His past . . . The very different upbringing
. . . The knowledge of things he shouldn’t . . . What did Ardette know about it? Why the secrets? One thing was certain: something was off. Ardette had too much of an interest in Nyte. Had they known each other before the ranch? Or maybe Ardette could just read that Nyte wasn’t an average Elf? Something about the situation made me wary. Was I safer not knowing?

  There were too many questions. My head swirled.

  “Aha, see, she is curious.”

  Nyte searched my face. He looked worried, and the expression made my stomach drop.

  I can’t. I was dying to know, but I couldn’t force him to tell me. It wasn’t right. This was supposed to be fun, friendly competition. I wouldn’t let Ardette get between our friendship. Maybe Nyte would tell me on his own, when he was ready. At least I could hope.

  “No,” I said, “I won’t demand that.”

  Ardette looked amused. “Why?”

  “Because there’s something I want more.”

  It was a lie, but I sounded convincing. A blend of confusion and relief spread across Nyte’s face.

  Ardette was taken aback. “Well, I didn’t think you were bold enough to go THERE.” He raised an eyebrow.

  I shuddered to think of the perverse thoughts that ran amok in his head.

  “If I win, Nyte must fully and unconditionally accept that I am not the Heart of Havoc.”

  “But I already-” Nyte started to protest, but then he grinned. “Fine, Miss Havoc, I accept. And if I win, you must . . . ,” – he looked away and his cheeks flushed slightly – “sing for me.”

  Sing?

  I nodded, embarrassed by the request. It was no longer as hard for me to sing in front of others as it had been, but thinking of singing solely for him . . .

  “Really? That’s all?” asked Ardette. “How disappointing. I was hoping for something more . . .” He sighed. “Scurry along, then. Good luck, my cherry pit, wouldn’t want you to have to sing, heaven forbid.”

  I smiled at him sweetly, and his smile wavered. Nyte and I trotted ahead.

  Once out of earshot, Nyte turned to me with a remorseful frown on his face. “Miss Havoc, I-”

  “Where will we ride to?” I interrupted. I didn’t want him to apologize for the interference. I was just glad I’d thwarted Ardette’s attempts at ruining our sport.

  He looked at me a moment before nodding. “We will race until Nor’ash Cross. It is a straight shot from here. Use those peaks as reference points.” He pointed to two lonely mountains in the distance.

  “Got it.”

  “Good luck, Miss Havoc.”

  “Enjoy calling me that. It’ll be the last time.” I narrowed my eyes in challenge.

  He chuckled. “Right. Three, two, one, go!”

  ~

  “Well, do you want me to sing now or later?”

  I’d accurately judged my osterflit’s energy level, but I’d completely overestimated his ability to run in a straight line. He’d traveled a longer distance in a shorter amount of time than Nyte’s; unfortunately, the moment I commanded him to sprint, he’d gone berserk, running only in a large circle around the rest of the flock.

  “Later will be fine, Miss Havoc,” said Nyte. He patted me on the head. “Keep in mind that I will be expecting your best, so please take time to prepare.”

  “Damn birds,” I muttered, growing more sympathetic to Grotts’ case the more time I spent with the osterflits.

  We camped for the night at Nor’ash Cross, which was nestled quaintly between the two mountains. As nightfall approached, distant trees on the horizon became inky silhouettes against the indigo night sky.

  “Are we heading that way, towards those trees?” I asked, looking over Scardo’s shoulder as he studied his map.

  “No, we will remain on the plains for a couple more days before moving into the jungle,” said Scardo. “It’s easier for the osterflits to run without dodging through the trees.”

  “Jungle?”

  “Do not fear, my cherry pit; I will watch over you and protect you from the ill-intentions of the wild jungle.” Ardette walked past me and brushed his finger down my arm.

  I shuddered. If anyone had ill-intentions it was most certainly the Daem himself.

  “Jungle?” I said again, trying to ignore Ardette’s passing caress.

  “Yes,” said Scardo. His expression was tired. He watched Ardette saunter away. “The closer we move toward Abardo, the thicker the air will become. The trees you see there will eventually transform from sparse and dry to thick and tropical. Yes’lech lies through the thickest part of the Drig’ni Jungle.”

  “Can’t wait.” Grotts rubbed his hands together and eyed the group of osterflits, which were pecking at the dry ground for bollgrubs. He looked kind of insane.

  “What will happen to the osterflits when we enter the jungle?” I asked uneasily.

  “We will release them, of course.” Scardo looked puzzled at my question. “It would be impractical to take them with us once the jungle thickens.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief.

  Grotts was still staring at the birds and caressing his hammer absentmindedly.

  It was scary.

  I examined the rest of the group. If I hadn’t known their respective personalities, I’d think them a pretty intimidating bunch. I’d grown used to having their guard, maybe even taken them for granted thus far, but as I watched them unpack in the deserted cusp of the mountains, I felt grateful for having such comrades. I wondered what it would it be like if they, rather than Druelca, were the ones searching for me.

  Grotts with his mighty hammer and strength; Rend with her fearsome magic; Ardette with his saber and wit; Scardo and his rapidly firing arrows; Kantú, loyal and persistent; and Nyte. Nyte with his speed, his sword, his strength, his innate power . . .

  Would I even have a chance? Even with my ariandos I felt powerless against them. What had I done to deserve their protection?

  Thank you, everyone. I hope I can come through for you.

  ~

  That night I awoke to a strange howl.

  I sat up and listened. There it was again, but it wasn’t just a howl; it was actually a series of short howls, interspersed between low hungry, growls. It didn’t sound like any animal I’d ever heard.

  “Kantú?” I nudged the sleeping girl, but she didn’t stir.

  There was another series of them. This time they sounded closer.

  Should I stay in here, or should I go see? We might be in danger!

  The sound was terrifying, but I had to at least check to see if the person keeping watch needed any help. Or maybe I just wanted them to comfort me.

  Either way, I threw on a cloak and cautiously left the tent. I held the cloak tightly and looked around the campsite, my nerves a mess.

  There was a soft chuckle. “Are you frightened, Miss Havoc?”

  Nyte was sitting next to the small fire, poking at it with a long stick. He was amused by my creeping state.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Of course, not.” But there was another howl, and I stiffened up, giving away my true disposition to things like that.

  “It is a nightwere.”

  “Nightwere?! Shouldn’t we wake the others?” I looked around nervously.

  “No. It will not come near, so long as there is fire. And if it does . . .” He pointed to his sword which was near his feet, brazen in the firelight.

  “You’ll swoop in and save the day?”

  He grinned. “Something like that.”

  I walked over and sat next to him. The fire was sweltering. It hungrily reached toward us.

  Nyte stared ahead for a moment and then glanced at me. “I noticed something about you,” he said. His voice was quiet and filled with some sort of soft emotion that I couldn’t quite recognize.

  “Oh?” I forced my voice to be calm. “About me?”

  “Your eyes.” He looked into them as if to study their deepest reaches.

  “You noticed I have eyes?” I said the words coolly, to hide the fact t
hat my heartbeat had sped significantly.

  The corner of his mouth twitched, but he ignored the smart remark. “I always thought they were black, but they are actually dark violet; only, you cannot see it in ordinary light. During dusk is when it is most noticeable.”

  Yes, that is something someone else once told me. I couldn’t remember who it’d been, though. Should I thank him for noticing, or . . .? I wasn’t sure what to do with myself, so I just let him study me, all the while using the opportunity to, in turn, study the deepest greens of his irises. What were they hiding?

  Then he lowered his gaze, and his eyelashes shrouded whatever emotion his eyes would have otherwise betrayed. “That hidden color,” he said. “It is something quite captivating.”

  Ah! Captivating!? What should I say?

  I became entirely flustered. I thought about a way to respond, convinced I was about to melt into the ground, but he continued before I could think of something.

  “My captivating captive.”

  “Nyte,” I whispered, my voice trembling a little. But another group of howls made me jump. It broke the tension.

  “Are you frightened, Miss Havoc?” he asked again. This time his voice was serious.

  “Just a little.”

  “Of the nightwere, or of what is to come?”

  I thought about it. “Both.”

  “Do not be afraid, Aura. I will protect you.” He reached for my hand.

  At his touch, warmth flooded into me, far more incinerating than the fire itself. Though I knew it was wrong, I allowed myself to pull in a little warmth before pulling my hand away and hiding it in my cloak.

  I know you will.

  We remained like that, silently staring into the burning coals, until the end of Nyte’s shift, even though the howling had long since ceased.

  I left him standing beside the waning fire, beneath the night sky, but I turned to say goodnight at the mouth of my tent. For once, it wasn’t the moon I was talking to.

  Goodnight, my captor.