by Brindi Quinn
If he kept running, he was safe from the monster within me.
~
The bird led us on through the sands for over an hour. Gradually, those disfigured machine remnants that had previously only dotted the land began to litter it, becoming more and more aggressive the more in number they were. One of them caught the edge of Kantú’s cloak and snagged the lining, leaving a rusty trail along the tear. Another of them sliced Grotts’ arm when he tried to squeeze through a too-tight pass. Though the Spirit of In-between flew on, the rest of the group halted.
“Damn.” Grotts inspected the slice, which was deep enough to make him wince, though he refrained from doing anything like that.
“Grottsy! Oh no!” Kantú immediately went about wetting a cloth and cleaning away the trickling blood. “Ooh! Come back, feather man! Come back!” she called.
The bird ignored her.
Some pet.
While Kantú fussed over the wound, I searched my pack for a dry strip of bandage, but said searchings never reached full fruition, for mid-rummage an idea occurred to me. I hadn’t needed to use my Song of Healing since the battle with The Mystress, but this seemed like the perfect time to try again.
It’s not like I’ve been waiting for the opportunity or anything. But yes, I was like a child with a new toy or a warrior with a new sword; I wanted to practice the phenomenon again.
“Grotts?” I said, tapping his shoulder. “Could I take a look at it? That is, try my song?”
“Er yeah sure, Miss Aura.” He wiped the palm of his uninjured arm across the back of his neck, apparently somewhat nervous about the notion. I didn’t blame him – I was, after all, about to attempt tonal experimentation on the injured man.
“Alright.” I took a deep breath and opened my mouth, excited to try the mysterious and powerful gift from the Creator once more. But after a moment of silence, I realized something terribly obvious. I don’t know the words! “Ur-”
“My, my, how amusing.” Ardette slouched against a rock with the smile of a bandit, but the rock was hiding a poking metal pipe, and it jabbed Ardette in my stead for his haughty behavior. He tried to pretend that nothing had happened, moving over a ways and resuming the same position, but it was too late, the jab had been seen, and Nyte responded with a smug snicker.
Ardette cleared his throat to move me along.
“Um.” Embarrassed, I bit my lip. “Last time the words just kind of came out on their own.”
Grotts patted my arm. “That’s alrigh’, Aura, I’ll be okay.”
I let out a disappointed sigh. What good was a songstress that couldn’t even command her released song? Miss Danice hadn’t mentioned specific instructions for rereleasing them once they’d been out once. Shouldn’t it just work like the other ariandos? But then again, maybe mine was the only one that used such strange words. Healing songs were, after all, supposed to be impossible.
“Aura,” said Nyte, breaking me from my speculations. “I do not know how the power of song works, but I do know that with Elven magic it is more about concentrating on the effect you seek than the process of casting. Might it be something similar with song?”
“Hm . . .” I mulled over his advice. The effect? Last time I’d been grieving. I’d been wishing with my whole body that I could save Nyte; that I could rescue him from his mistwalk. That I could heal his body even if I had to take his place. That compassion, the incredible emotion of all-encompassing love, had sparked the song.
Love?
But I definitely didn’t love Grotts. Not in that way. I looked at the gash that Kantú was struggling to mop up.
But I do want him to get better. He’s done so much for me. Reassured me, protected me, offered up his life for this task. He has such a good heart. He doesn’t deserve to be in pain.
As I pondered it, compassion filled the pit of my stomach, like I was suddenly on the verge of tears over his suffering, no matter how slight his suffering might’ve been.
I . . . I want to help him! I want to heal his suffering no matter what!
And before I knew it, my lips were moving on their own. My voice filled the air with the utterances of ancient, foreign lyrics and a light flared from my body, painting the surrounding space in a blue glow. It was working. I was calling upon the song that the Creator had delivered unto me.
Within that space of song, everything felt warm, but it was a different warmth than that of which I’d come to crave. It was a warmth without temptation, a warmth of purity and safety. I wasn’t afraid of myself around this warmth. I knew how much I needed, and I took only that, pushing it into the place it needed to go.
“ . . . AEL . . .”
And that was it. The last sacred word uttered, I felt the power resting in my lips. Without fear of blood, I bent over and kissed Grotts’ wound, transferring my healing power into him. At once, the blood-flow reversed, pulling back into the opening of flesh. I pulled away just as the wound closed, leaving no mark, only smooth, healthy skin.
Everyone was silent. The blue glow was gone, retreated back into me until needed again.
Eeeh! It worked. It worked! I felt like spinning in a circle or throwing my arms above my head in a triumphant gesture of celebration, but I thought that that kind of rejoicing behavior might’ve been way too arrogant and immature, so I held it in.
“Thanks.” Grotts was first to speak. He clapped me on the back and sent me jerking forward, his chipped-tooth grin beaming brightly.
Kantú threw her arms around my neck. “Whoop! That was so awesome-flossum!”
“Flossum?” But I grinned at her praise.
“Found your voice, have you-”
But Ardette’s cynical comment was laid to rest before he could spit it out because at that moment, there was a shrill cry from somewhere nearby. It bounced off of the Crystallands’ various impediments, echoing and distorting into something sounding almost like pained laughter.
In response, Kantú gripped Grotts’ newly healed arm and twitched about timidly. “What was that?!” she chittered nervously.
Nyte pointed. “It comes from that direction.” Apparently, his Elf ears had perceived more than the rest of ours had. “One hundred eighty-three or so paces.”
“A little precise for an estimate, don’t you think?” scoffed Ardette.
Nyte grinned. “See if I am right.”
We set off in a run towards the scream, careful to dodge any other aggressive metals that tried to hinder us.
The Spirit of In-between was waiting for us when we arrived at the base of a strange thing.
“Here.” Nyte stopped and looked around.
“Hmph. Pardon me, but I counted only one hundred eighty-one paces, so . . .”
“But ya did purposely take bigger-than-usual steps, right?” Grotts winked at me.
“Oh?” Ardette studied his nails, trying to hide any truth Grotts’ observation might have contained. “Well, that can’t very well be proven, can it?”
But while they were discussing that, I was preoccupied with the thing. The scream had taken us to a small building made entirely of metal built into the side of a mound of rock. It held no windows, but had mismatched squares of metal covering various parts. I’d never seen anything like it.
A building made from metal? But why?!
“What in Farellah is this thing?” I asked, knocking on its side. It responded with a dull clank. “It’s really, really solid.”
“Hmm,” said Ardette. He didn’t look up from his nails. “What were these things called again? Bungers?”
“Bunkers,” said Nyte.
“Oh, yes, yes, bunkers. Thank you, one-who-should-not-know-such-things-but-feels-the-need-to-show-off-his-knowledge-in-such-a-flamboyant-manner.”
“Flamboyant?” said Grotts. He chuckled and then added under his breath, “Wasn’t there somethin’ ‘bout a pot and a kettle?”
“Huh?” Kantú scrunched her nose at him, but he only shook his head, a twinkle in his eyes.
“Kant�
�,” I said, “would you ask the feather bird-man if this is where the portal is, or if he knows what that scream was?” Or really anything useful for that matter. Maybe we’ll luck out and he’s feeling chatty today.
“Right! Great idea!” She closed her eyes for a moment.
“What’s a bunker?” I whispered while waiting.
“Beats me,” said Grotts.
Nyte shrugged. “I only know that it is called such. I do not know what its purpose is.”
Hm. I don’t see a door or anything. I stared up it at it and tried to figure out what such purpose might be while we silently waited for Kantú to finish. Nothing came to mind.
“Guys!” she said finally. “The feather man says that the portal’s around here and that there are three people trapped inside of this thing!”
“Trapped?!” I repeated with added vigor.
“Yup!” she said. “He can feel their energy.”
Could it be Rend and Scardo? But wait, she said three people . . . . Either way we have to help them!
“What are we going to do?!” I frantically scanned the bunker, but finding no obvious answer, quickly substituted the action for frantically scanning the group instead.
“Allow me.” Grotts raised his hammer and slammed it against the side of the bunker. The weapon bounced back in Grotts’ hand, shaking violently. It hadn’t even made a dent.
“Should I try a mistbomb?”
“Hm. I dunno,” said Grotts. “This sucker’s pretty tough.”
Kantú looked over at Ardette. She put her chin in her hand and examined him for a minute before saying,
“Can’t you just flicker to shadow and walk right through?”
“You wish me dead do you? Flicker my entire body, and then what? Pass out on the other side with no one to revive me? That’s if I even managed to make it through in the first place. It’s more difficult the denser the material is. Flesh is easy to move, through, because it’s quite soft and squishy.”
To prove his point, he reached his hand out and pushed it through her arm. She shivered, and he flashed a glowing smile.
“But then, how did the trapped people get in?” I asked. I’d yet to find any doors or other openings that could be of use.
“Up there.” Ardette nodded to the top of the bunker where there was a small opening that had at first been overlooked due to the reflective glint of a neighboring metal scrap. If Ardette had made the discovery early on, he certainly hadn’t bothered to inform the rest of us.
“Well, that’s great,” grumbled Grotts. “How’re we gonna get up-”
But Nyte had already taken a running start. He easily sprang to the top in one light leap, landing evenly, before turning to the rest of us.
“Psh.” Ardette rolled his eyes.
“Are you coming, Miss Havoc?” teased Nyte.
“Funny.” I glared up at him and he bowed nobly. “But what about the rest of us?”
“It is fine. There is a metal ladder here going down into the bunker. I will go on ahead and explore-”
“No! You can’t!” I blurted too hysterically. It was an emulation of my own selfishness, due to which, my pulse had sped far too quickly at the thought of being separated from him.
I need you to stay close, in case I need another dose.
No! That’s not why! It’s because I don’t want him to get hurt!
Really?
Yes, ‘really’!
“Hello, spacey?”
“Huh?” I shook my head to shake away the remnants of muddle that zoning had left behind in my brain.
Kantú was at my face, peering into the eyeholes that had gone blank.
“Are you just gonna stand there?” she asked.
“Stand here?” I blinked and looked around. Grotts was already halfway up a thick rope that Nyte had apparently let down.
“Where did that come from?” I asked.
“Haven’t you been listening to anything we’ve said?”
“Er-” Had they really been talking?
I’ve got to quit living within my head like that. Gah! See, even now I’m doing it!
“Oh, Aura.” Kantú shook her head. “It was already tied to a bar up there. That’s how the trapped people must’ve been able to get in.”
“Unless they’re all Elves,” I mumbled.
“Alright, ya guys. Seems ta be pretty sturdy. Come on up,” called Grotts after safely reaching the top.
“Hmpf.” Ardette eyed the rope, sizing it up. “Are you sure you haven’t only weakened it? Might it not snap now that it’s been strained under the weight of your-”
“Ya ain’t scared, are ya?”
Ardette gave him a cool wave with the back of his hand and then turned to me.
“Alright then, my cherry pit, go on. But rest assured. I’ll be below to catch you should you happen to fall.”
“You just want to get a good, uninhibited look at her from behind, don’t you?” Kantú whispered behind her hand at the nonchalant Daem.
Nonchalant quickly lost its accuracy, however, for in response, Ardette smiled wickedly and patted her on the head.
“Brother,” I muttered before starting up the rope.
The climb up was fine. My body was much stronger than when we’d started – a side-effect of traversing the various terrains of the Westerlands – and climbing was easy for me. No, the challenge came not from the climb itself, but from the climb’s end. That was when things became . . . difficult. More than difficult.
Nyte was waiting for me at the top, bent forward and expectantly reaching out a helping hand for me to grab, but he didn’t quite look like himself. In fact, he looked much like an addict. In his eyes was a thirst – the thirst of a man wanting more than just to perform an act of chivalry. It seemed he was intent on feeding our addiction with little regard for consequence.
“Nyte?”
I paused just out of reach and stared up at him with eyes of longing. How I wanted to reach up and accept his hand in mine. How I longed to feel him pull me up the remainder of the way and embrace me once at the top. How I craved the feeling of his warm fingers entwined in mine. All of these wants poured into my arm and released it from the rope, ignoring my conscience and extending it towards him. We really were both weak, wretched creatures intent on bringing about our own demises. There was no outrunning it. This was our fate.
My fingertips were nearly at his, but luckily, we were saved before we could ‘indulge’ once more. Grotts, in an attempt to look inconspicuous, but failing quite miserably, bumped into Nyte from the side at the last moment, jolting him enough to remove the thirst from his eyes.
“Oops! Sorry bout that. Oh! Aura, ‘ere, lemme help ya up!”
He grabbed my hand in Nyte’s stead while Nyte stared down at his hands, confused and ashamed.
“Thank you, Grotts,” I said, thanking him for more than just the assistance up. It had been another close call. Another too-close call.
“It’s nothin’.” Grotts turned to Nyte and patted him on the shoulder before reaching down for Kantú.
“Again I cannot refrain?” Nyte quietly asked himself. I could only watch with sympathy.
It’s all right, Nyte. I understand that feeling of losing yourself in the midst of that impulse.
Nyte continued to inspect his hands with worried brows until after Kantú and Ardette had joined us, and even after the rest had started into the hole and down the ladder. Nyte and I were the last to descend.
“Come on, Nyte,” I whispered.
But he didn’t move. I waited.
After a minute he looked up. “You must think me incredibly weak, Miss Havoc. I am sorry. It is disgraceful to be viewed in such a way.”
“No.” I reached for the end of his sleeve and held it between my thumb and finger. “It’s understandable. I know the struggle you’re going through. I feel it myself, after all.”
He looked at me silently for a moment, and as he did, sadness trickled into the corners of his eyes. I pinched his
sleeve tightly, wishing more than anything that I could grab his wrist and have just a little.
Just a little warmth.
“That isn’t exactly true,” piped a high-pitched voice from down below.
Huh?
The voice’s owner, Kantú, poked her head through the small opening, forcing Nyte and me to break our gaze.
“Kantú? You were listening?”
“Sorry!” She fluttered her lashes in a faux innocence that I knew all too well. I ignored the annoyance that had peaked at her invasion of privacy.
“What do you mean that isn’t true?” I asked instead.
“I’m sorry to tell you, Aura, but you really don’t understand it at all. Nyte’s struggle is much, much worse than yours.”
“Er-” I immediately felt guilty. A glutton. “How do you know?” How can it be worse than this? This craving? This evil side of me taking over?
“The feather man said so.” She turned from me. “I’m sorry, Nytie. He told me even though you don’t want anyone to know. He told me the truth.” She paused and her bubbly face for once looked pained. “That not touching her is like watching her die, right? That not touching her is like watching yourself kill her over and over and over again.”
Nyte was silent.
“What?!” Completely horrified at her description of his struggle, I held Nyte’s sleeve even tighter and cranked my gaze to meet his. “What does she mean ‘kill’?” I demanded.
Nyte looked back at me with a grim expression.
“Starve, actually.” His voice was quiet.
“Er . . . starve?”
He nodded once. “It is like watching myself dangle a kingfruit before you while you writhe in starvation. It is . . . torture.”
Chapter 6: The Portal
We were inside of the bunker. My lightsong lit the way as we slowly moved through the ‘oddity’ that was inside. And even though such an oddity was inside, I felt no need to contemplate it. I was too consumed with Nyte.
I was torturing him. It tortured him to be around me. Torture. Torture. It was such a heavy word. What should a person do in this situation? Normally, the answer would be simple. To ease a person’s suffering, you’d start with a touch of comfort. A connection to let them know they still existed and that you were there too. A connection of flesh to share that suffering, to ease its burden. But that clearly wouldn’t work under our frustrating circumstances. I wanted to touch him because I loved him, because he needed console, because I was addicted to it, because he was addicted to it, and for so many other reasons, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.
