Heart of Farellah: Book 2

by Brindi Quinn

  I’m really in no position to be exerting any sort of authority. It was, after all, wrong of me to go jumping into Nyte’s arms again. Honestly, what was I thinking? I should just be good right now, but Ardette’s just being so . . . so . . . ugh!

  “That’s enough, Ardette,” I said, again staring at my knees. For his own sake, maybe more than anyone else’s, I wanted him to stop being so ugly.

  “Enough, is it? My, my, why don’t we see what happens when we try to take off your love’s little necklace. You remember, don’t you? The necklace he stole while working for THE MYSTRESS!”

  Ardette’s slammed his fist against the suitable cave’s wall, rattling a few shakes of rock loose from an above stalactite.

  “I have stolen nothing!” retorted Nyte, leaping to his feet. “How many times must I tell you? Elder Pietri gave me this embl-”

  “Ha! Still sticking with that story, are you?”

  “Ardette, you’re right.” Darch, who’d been staring into the fire during the entirety of the reprimand, spoke for the first time. His voice was reserved.

  “Hmph, well, you needn’t act so surprised. Not that I care to have your opinion, anyways.”

  “Now just what are ya agreein’ to, Darch?” asked Grotts, narrowing his brows. “Ya can’t mean kickin’ Nyte outta the guard!”

  “No, no, no! Let’s take it off. It’s the only way things are going to get bet-”

  “Ugh!” I heaved, for some reason more annoyed than I should have been. “Will that make you happy?” I jumped to my feet, stretched out my arm, and grabbed the familiar pendant, but Nyte’s hand was around my wrist before I could even begin to pull.

  “Ah! I am sorry, Miss Havoc! I do not know why-”

  Warm!

  Nyte stared down at his hand in horror while the fire’s flickering light danced across his cheeks.

  “Let me take it off, then!” said Ardette, starting forward.

  But he was cut off by something most surprising.

  The Spirit of In-between had been outside standing guard with Rend and Kantú, but it was now inside of the suitable cave, shimmering wings spread wide, blocking Ardette from getting to Nyte.

  Kantú wasn’t far behind. With tail swishing wildly and gentle eyes plagued by terror, she shoved herself into Ardette’s unexpecting side and yelled,

  “Don’t do it, Ardette! Don’t do it! If you take it off, Aura will DIE!”

  Chapter 10: The Emulator

  “Die?” I pulled my wrist from Nyte’s hand.

  “What do you mean she will die?” he demanded.

  “I don’t know!” said Kantú, stumbling over a pile of pebbles while attempting to reach the glittering bird. “That’s just what the Spirit of In-between says!”

  The Spirit of In-between was still in front of Nyte, blocking Ardette from reaching him, but it had stopped flapping its wings and was now eyeing Ardette with what almost looked like cockiness.

  About time he gets a taste of his own medicine.

  “Why doesn’t the all-knowing one come out and talk to us, then?” Ardette shot the bird a sinister glance. “Damned officers. Even in death they continue to taunt us.”

  Noticeably offended, Scardo turned up his nose.

  “Die?” I said again. “Why in Farellah would I die if he took off the familiar pendant?”

  “Familiar?” asked Grotts.

  “Urrr.” Shoot.

  I ignored the question by pretending to swat at a bug. The bug was, however, nonexistent, so the attempt only ended up adding to the suspiciousness of the situation. Grotts opened his mouth to press me further, but thankfully, Kantú was a much faster talker.

  “Feather man,” she whined, “you don’t really mean die die, do you? Can’t you just explain a bit more? Like, why is it so hard for Nyte to not touch her?”

  “Hm. A little thing called ‘lack of self-control’ if you ask me,” said Ardette, backing away from the bird.

  Nyte rolled his eyes to show that he wasn’t bothered by Ardette’s stab – like it didn’t faze him. But in reality, the statement must’ve gotten to him at least a little. Maybe it reminded the sullen Elf that there was a hungry spirit-sucker ‘starving’ before him, desperate to be fed. Or maybe it was something simpler, like making him realize how close my body was to his just then in the intimacy of the suitable cave. We were, after all, such weak beings, unable to ignore the invisible energy connecting us to one another.

  Whatever the comment had sparked, it had unquestionably done something; for along with the eye roll, Nyte had discreetly slipped his hand around my back and grabbed a generous handful of cloak. Even through the folds of fabric, I could feel his fingers shaking from the tightness of his grip. It made me shiver.

  Aside from the fire’s taunting, crackling cackle, the cave was noiseless a moment and then,

  “Come on, feather man,” urged Kantú. “We’re supposed to be friends!”

  Again, it was too strange a concept for me to swallow easily.

  Friends, eh?

  But despite her coaxing attempts, it seemed that this time the bird had determined to remain silent not only towards the rest of us, but towards Kantú as well, because after another moment the peeved Squirrelean folded her arms and let out an exasperated, “Humph!”

  Defeated, she threw a pouting lip at Grotts, but it was intercepted by someone else.

  “I’ll take care of this,” said Darch.

  Apparently in his element – though, I suppose it should have come as no surprise, seeing as how spirits and the like were, after all, his specialty – he straightened his glasses and gave Kantú a reassuring nod. Then, with blue eyes blazing from the fire’s reflection in his lenses, he pushed up his sleeves and began edging around the fire cautiously in the direction of her ‘friend’.

  As I watched him, held in place by Nyte’s unyielding grip, it was as though the usually-happy-go-lucky man had swiftly transformed into something professional. Or maybe ‘professional’ wasn’t the right word. Somehow, making his way to the great bird, the Magir looked more ‘magical’ than I’d ever seen him – like the wisdom from his first life was shining through.

  It was . . . impressive.

  “Yes, Darch, do ask,” said Scardo with a sitting half-bow. “I’m certain there is a perfectly logical explanation as to why the officers are keeping things from-”

  “Come here, Kantú,” interrupted Darch, evidently having no time for more of Scardo’s officer-fawning. “I wish to speak with Elder Nosrac, and I need your help.”

  “Uh, okay.” Still sounding a little affronted, Kantú reluctantly pulled her eyes from the Spirit of In-between and started sulking to Darch.

  “Fantastic,” he said.

  But Darch wouldn’t get the chance to follow through with whatever Magir plan he’d been about to execute. As he moved toward the bird with hands outstretched like he was about to catch an escaping bully-frog, the Spirit of In-between gave a great push and flew out of the cave, dodging stalactites with ease, and leaving the rest of us with nothing but frustration and questions.

  Scardo let out a disappointed sigh and looked as though he’d just found out there’d be no dessert.

  “Typical,” muttered Ardette. He lazily slouched into a sitting position against the wall next to me and started to inspect his palm. Apparently, he wasn’t aware that with the Spirit of In-between out of the picture, he was in danger of being next in line for interrogation.

  Indeed, having no luck with Darch’s feather man strategy, I recognized that it was time for me to try my hand at ‘handling’ it, and since my target was likely to be even less willing than the bird had been, I’d have to tread carefully.

  “Ardette,” I said, turning in earnest to the one other person in the guard that certainly knew much more than he was letting on, “I think it’s time you told us what this emulator thing is. Even if you ‘don’t know much’, whatever you do know will be helpful.” I placed my hand on his shoulder before adding, “Please.”
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br />   Ardette glanced up from his palm, and for a moment his expression was abnormally soft. He looked about ready to cooperate until –

  “Yes, Daem,” said Nyte, his voice nowhere near as polite as mine had been, “it is no use to keep things from us. What else do you know?”

  I let out a tired sigh, already foreseeing that the comment would cause problems.

  Urgh, Nyte. That tone of yours didn’t help.

  With a wrinkled nose of annoyance, Ardette said, “Well, I didn’t know that taking it off would kill her, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  I sighed again and retreated my hand, a gesture that seemed not to bother Ardette in the least, for he went right back to inspecting his palm. “You know that’s not what he meant, Ardette.”

  I’d never admit to him that it was probably exactly what Nyte had meant.

  Luckily, Darch was able monitor the situation a little better.

  “Listen, Nyte,” he said, settling next to Scardo. “As you’ve probably gathered, we’ve come to the conclusion that you’re this thing – an emulator. But . . . we don’t really know what that means, exactly. Well, Ardette does, but only because he heard it while at Druelca.”

  “What do you mean I am it?” Nyte didn’t look at all surprised, only confused. “Can it be cured?”

  “‘Cured’?” mumbled Grotts, grinning, though the grin fell almost immediately. The air was too tense for such things.

  Darch motioned to Ardette. “Ardette, why don’t you share what you found out?” He shrugged and added, “If you don’t, I will.”

  Ardette didn’t look up from his palm. “Oh, will you, Darch? Go for it, then.”

  Darch only beamed and then continued,

  “You see, supposedly, an emulator is an Elf used by a songstress to amplify their power. It seems useful and everything, but in the continued transference of spirit, the emulator gradually becomes ‘mentally unstable’. For this reason, emulator usage was banned a long time ago.”

  The words, or rather the news, dropped on me heavily and unmercifully.

  With a hysterical twist to Nyte, I blurted, “What!? But . . . that’s . . . !”

  Nyte looked back at me with soft sadness lining the shadows of his face. A drop of cave condensation slid gingerly down his neck. He still didn’t seem at all surprised.

  “Aura,” he said quietly.

  “Mentally unstable because of . . . ?” I tried to form the words. Ardette had mentioned that Nyte might be losing his sanity soon, something I hadn’t really come to terms with at all, but if it really was happening, was it truly all because of . . . “Me?” Because of my selfish addiction?

  Each time I take the warmth, it pushes him further?

  Kantú could see that sinking look in my eyes. “Aura . . .” she muttered. She absentmindedly reached out to pat my arm, but we were separated by a too great a distance for such a pat, so in the end, her hand just hung in the space before her, awkwardly outstretched at me.

  My fingers, on the other hand, were outstretched towards someone else, and though the distance between us was far shorter than the space separating Kantú and me, I wasn’t any closer to being able to give Nyte the pat of comfort I so desperately wanted to deliver.

  “Miss Havoc, do not worry. I have not reached instability. See,” – he gave me a small grin and pointed to himself – “I am normal.”

  That was easy for him to say; he didn’t remember those times of blank stare, of muddled consciousness, of confusion. He didn’t understand the way he’d been changing.

  “Oh, come, my cherry pit. Such despair upon a beautiful face is too much for me to handle.”

  I was still between Nyte and Ardette, my hand still lingering in the space above Ardette’s shoulder. I had yet to remove my stare from Nyte, distracted by the grin that I loved, when Ardette unexpectedly grabbed my hand and pulled me to the ground next to him. My legs didn’t put up a fight, and I easily sank to the dirty floor in a lazy pile.

  Nyte made a small, perturbed noise but didn’t reach for me. Maybe he was finally starting to understand the seriousness of our situation.

  I could hope.

  Darch rested his chin on his hand while resting his gaze on me.

  “You’ve been drawing from Nyte for a while now, right?” he said. “Even before your awakening as the Heart of Salvation. Who is it that told you to use his power? Who told you that his spirit could be channeled?”

  His spirit . . . My power.

  “Elder Pietri did,” I said, “but he said he didn’t really know if it would work.”

  “Wait, Pietri said that?” asked Darch. My answer had surprised him. His chin no longer at rest, he cranked his head to Grotts and Scardo and asked, “Really?”

  “That is correct,” sniffed Scardo.

  “Er, yeah . . .but why’s that matter?” Grotts furrowed his brows a moment while he contemplated the issue, but it wasn’t long before understanding started to spread across his tired face. “Oh, right! I didn’t really give it thought til just now, though!”

  He stood to his feet and started pacing the fire.

  “What is it?” asked Kantú in a peep. It was clear that Grotts’ sudden zeal made her nervous, for her tail began to swish with the question. She’d been standing, but she now crouched a bit and watched the gruff man with wide eyes.

  Grotts’ pacing didn’t let up.

  “Of course Pietri’d know that it works!”

  “Why do you say that?” asked Nyte.

  “Naturally, the high-and-mighty officers know all about emulators,” said Ardette, airing disconnect.

  Again, Scardo turned up his nose. Either he was still feeling bitter, or he hadn’t yet accepted the fact that the officers had kept it from him.

  “But they did not share it with you?” Nyte’s question only served to further Scardo’s bad attitude.

  “Nope,” said Darch. “But Grotts overheard something once.”

  Grotts shied his face away from us and patted his sweaty forehead with his sleeve. “Er, not real important.”

  It probably was.

  I wanted to pry, but instead I said, “I don’t get it, though. What makes someone an emulator? Can any Elf become one? Or was he born that way?”

  “Ah, the key is there, upon his lanky neck.” Without looking up, Ardette lazily lifted his finger and pointed at Nyte, grazing my chin on the way.

  “The fam-” I stopped myself. “The pendant?”

  Darch nodded. “Ardette’s right. It’s one of the Elven treasures. It marks him. Or so we’ve heard.”

  Scardo made a swallow – a barely audible swallow – of doubt.

  “A treasure of Sredna?” Nyte held the pendant loosely and looked down at it with skepticism. “This?”

  “That’s right!” sang Darch, smiling. He’d severely relaxed since his earlier fit of surprise. Holding his knee in his hands, he leaned over and rested his head on a very annoyed Scardo’s shoulder, though Scardo did nothing in the way of shrugging him off. The sight would have been funny had things not been so dismal.

  “Nyte, Elder Pietri never told you anything about it, even when . . .” He told you the sacred knowledge?

  Still studying the pendant, Nyte shook his head.

  “Wha’ I can’t figure out is why he’d pretend he didn’t know bout it at Yh’tak. What’d he have ta gain from hidin’ it?”

  “Y-yes!” stammered Scardo. “He would have nothing to gain; therefore, he would have no reason to willingly conceal something like that!”

  “You mean ‘willingly lie’ about something like that, don’t you?” scoffed Ardette. “L-i-e, Scardo. He lied, as the rest of them have to us numerous times.” He sighed. “When will you dogs ever learn?”

  Scardo’s eyes became slits, his tongue loose, silking his words even more than usual. “Your blatant disrespect continues to amaze me,” he hissed. “How is it that someone like you – an insolent, unprofessional, discourteous lecher – managed to become a member of Yes’lec
h?!”

  During his bout of bite-back, Scardo straightened his hunch enough to bother Darch.

  Looking mildly disappointed, Darch removed his head.

  “Scardo?” I asked. “Are you alri-”

  “Ah!” He immediately released his head into a bow of submission. “A-apologies, Miss Heart!”

  Ardette yawned. The fire crackled.

  “Weeeell,” said Darch, pushing along the awkwardness, “we’ve established that Ardette is a ‘lecher’, but we still don’t have a reason for why the Elder pretended not to know about emulator transference.”

  “It is troubling, is it not?” Nyte stared into the fire, a dark expression on his face.

  Even like that, brooding and plagued, he looked . . . cute. Unable to help myself, I stared at him until he drew his eyes up a moment later.

  He looked at Grotts, who’d stopped his pacing and was now casting an enormous shadow against the cave wall while taking a hearty drink from his canteen, and said, “I am convinced that Elder Pietri has another version of the prophecy. A version different than the one upon the scroll in his dwelling. Something more accurate than even that of Yes’lech.” He dropped his forest eyes to my face. “That must be how he knew about Aura’s choice during the test.”

  The Silver Command.

  “The officers seemed to know about the test, though,” I said.

  “Yes,” said Grotts, wiping his mouth, “but the officers called ya the Pure Heart, and never once let on that ya might be otherwise. Even within the whispers of Yes’lech, not one time did any of us hear anythin’ like that, right?” He looked to the other three Yes’lechians for confirmation.

  All three, even Ardette, nodded.

  “Plus,” said Darch, “if Pietri really gave him that necklace . . .”

  “That’s still up for debate, isn’t it?” said Ardette.

  Was it just me, or was he somehow closer to me than he had been before? It was warm in the cave from the fire, but I was hot. It was sort of stuffy, and Ardette was too close, his arm touching mine, almost like we were huddled together. When had that happened?