by Brindi Quinn
My ancestry? Is he being serious, or . . .
I couldn’t help myself. I cautiously peeked back up at him. He seemed sincere.
“Well?” he pressed.
“Mine?” I asked in a small voice, hoping it wasn’t a mistake to do so.
He placed his finger beneath my chin and pulled my face closer to his. “A Daem fire-story, not that it’s really all that interesting . . .”
“Tell me!” I tried to suppress my eagerness, but some of it slipped out anyway, and before I knew it, I’d grabbed his elbow.
He cast a gloating smirk over his shoulder, most likely at Nyte.
Oops.
Before I could react, Ardette looped his arm through mine, seeking to pull me along with him, but much to his annoyance – and much to everyone else’s amusement – Darch slipped his arm through Ardette’s other one at the same time, rooting him in place, and foiling any plans of isolation.
“Ugh!” groaned Ardette. “Don’t you have anything better to do, Darch, than to bother me?”
“Nope!” Darch smiled a smile of genuine happiness. “Carry on.”
Ardette sighed. “You intend to stay that way, do you?”
Darch nodded.
“Charming.” Ardette glowered at Darch a moment before turning to me. At first, it seemed like the glower would stay, but when his eyes fell on my eager face, his frown relaxed. “Didn’t you know? Songstresses, so the legend goes, are the descendants of angels,” – he smiled ever so slightly – “though I’m certain you’re the most angelic of them all, Aura.”
The small something liked the statement. It forced me to gulp.
“Wha-” Darch shot a strange, almost-alarmed look at Ardette, releasing his hold in the process and taking a step back.
“What?” said Ardette, a frown again upon his face.
“Nothing.” Darch’s face was serious, concerned. “I’ll leave you alone.” He added in a mumble, “Sorry, Ardette.”
What’s that about?
I didn’t get it.
Apparently, neither did Ardette. Looking confused, he dropped his loop and mouthed something uncatchable to Darch, but Darch only shook his head and turned away.
“Uh, angels, really?” I said, feeling awkward.
Luckily, Nyte came to my rescue.
“We see it a little differently, but it is interesting, the similarity between Elf and Daem lore.” He was next to me in a flash, leaving a sour Rend to look on disapprovingly.
“What is it, Nyte?” I asked.
I hadn’t expected him to be so close so quickly. I’d stopped breathing a moment too long, and it had resulted in slight lightheadedness.
Will I ever stop reacting like that? Am I that smitten?
I was.
Nyte grinned as he passed me. I don’t know if he could tell what thrill he’d just created within me, or if he just felt like giving me a tease, but either way, his grin was definitely kind of rascally. I followed him around another handful of shallow potholes and noticed that the land seemed to be inclining slightly. In the distance, the skyline proved my suspicions by showing off an almost volcanic-looking mound of rock. That was either our destination, or we were going to travel right through. Either way, as far as I could see, the land was still inhabited by only boulders and pits, accented by clumps of dry-looking weed patch every now and then.
“Do you not know your own heritage, Miss Havoc? You should at least know where you came from if you have any hopes of destroying the world.”
I narrowed my eyes.
He chuckled and continued, “When the great Creator distributed the races across the land, he granted a special sect of Sape with the power of song. This was a power originally given to the angels at the time before the world as we know it. During the void.”
Rend, who was trailing behind, unexpectedly entered our conversation, though it was probably only an act of impulse. She asked rhetorically, “That is one of the reasons Lusafael was so bitter, was it not?”
“Yes,” said Nyte. “The Creator took a gift originally given to the angels and gave it to the songstresses. For this reason, among others, Lusafael sought to bring turmoil to the races.”
“So that’s why he played the Mud Sea trick?” I asked.
“Yes.” Nyte nodded. “However, that is-” He easily hurdled over a wide pothole and looked back at me expectantly.
“If you believe the legend?” I finished, walking around said pothole.
“Right.” Nyte’s grin turned from rascally to delighted.
“Blasphemy!” came a sudden outraged shout from the formerly subdued Rend still lagging behind us. “You dare to think of the history as mere legend?” A sudden burst of speed took her to Nyte’s side. “Your sacrilege has grown since meeting this girl! It is a disgrace to the name Attirb!”
Darch, having abandoned an Ardette-turned-preoccupied-and-distant, had been discussing something ahead of us with Grotts, Scardo, and Kantú, but at Rend’s comment, he stopped and glanced back over his shoulder. “That ‘girl’ is the Heart of Salvation; surely you’ve realized that by now?”
“Hmph. Be that as it may, destiny may be outrun by those foolish enough to try.”
“That’s why Nyte’s been outrunnin’ his destiny ever since ‘e found out ‘e was destined to marry her,” Grotts told Kantú in a mutter, tilting his head at Rend – though it was a mutter loud enough for me to catch, and therefore, most definitely loud enough for Rend to hear. Maybe Grotts realized this. His hammer lifted off the ground just a tad.
Kantú was able to suppress only half of her escaping chitter.
Rend showed no signs of punishing intent, but I wasn’t going to take a chance.
“Hey! Hey Scardo!” I called, putting myself dangerously in between Rend and the group before us.
“Miss Heart?”
“Are we getting close to the andap?”
“Yes, it is very close. I have not taken from this depository before, though, so I’m not sure exactly where . . . Grotts, might I have my map back?”
“Course.”
Scardo held the map out and squinted. “Somewhere around . . .” He tapped the map and lifted his eyes to the horizon.
“It is there, is it not?” asked Nyte. He pointed at the distant mound.
“Yes, I should think.” Scardo checked the map again, though, just to be sure.
“But why have you had need of an andap depository before now, anyway, Scardo?”
My question put a content, faraway look on his face.
“I usually fetch it for Ronal,” he answered, absentmindedly stowing away the map.
“Who’s Ronal?” asked Kantú.
“One of the officers. She cannot get it herself, of course, so I have had the honor of retrieving it for her.”
“Psh. Honor? Pleased with yourself, are you? See how he shines?” Ardette had decided to cease his brooding and rejoin the rest of the group. I was relieved. Brooding was kind of disconcerting on him.
An officer Daem? That beautiful, purring woman was Ronal, eh?
“Pity other Daems can’t be as charmin’ as her.” Grotts feigned disappointment.
Ardette flashed a cold, but glimmering smile. “Oh, Ha-ha. Awful cheeky today, aren’t we, Grotts, old pal?”
“So that’s why you were carrying it that time at the Waterfall of Sorrow?” I asked. “For Ronal?” Scardo nodded. “Well, why don’t you keep some on you, too, Ardette? It seems like that would be useful.”
Grotts shook his head and his voice became ominous, “It’s bad luck fer a Daem to carry that sorta thing with him.”
“It is?” Kantú studied him to see if he was joking. “Why’s that, Grottsy?”
“Well, it’d be like you carryin’ around a vial 'o someone’s blood.”
“Gross!” I joined in her exclamation.
“Gross?” Ardette picked up a small chuck of obsidian and ran his thumb along its edge. “You haven’t a clue just how disgusting it is. Try drinking some unknown pe
rson’s hot blood from a dirty little glass tube and tell me how you feel afterward.”
Shaking his head, Darch walked over and snatched the rock from Ardette. “Now, now, Ardetto, it’s really not that bad. You’re forgetting the part where it’s purified.” He turned to Kantú. “The tears of an innocent take out any impurities, making it completely clean.”
“Oh. Okay.” She was perfectly accepting of the process. “Guess it’s not that gross, then.”
Darch shoved the obsidian into his pocket and clapped his hands. “So, which innocent shall we use? You or Aura?”
“What about dear Rend?” Ardette eyed the scowling Elf up and down. Her scowl intensified.
Darch shrugged. “She’s not an innocent.”
“What?!” seethed Rend. “How dare you imply something so indecent!?”
“Wait a minute, Darch!” I said. “That’s not really something you should openly allege!”
In that moment, Darch was more in danger of light blast than Ardette had ever been.
Nyte, too, looked appalled.
“Oops! It seems I haven’t properly explained the meaning of ‘innocent’.” Darch chortled at his mistake. “I meant no offense. The kind of innocence we’re dealing with is all about a person’s spirit.”
Rend calmed, but just a little.
“Their spirit?” I asked. “So, what’s it mean exactly?”
“Hmmm. Too many factors to really explain it accurately. Let’s just say, it’s a state of mind. A way of looking at the world. The purity of one’s love for another – a love unclouded by jealousy. A worldview unclouded by narrow-mindedness. Those sorts of things help make a person an innocent, and you and Kantú are both definitely innocents, though she more so than you, incidentally.” He gave me a wink and added, “Trust me; I’m an expert, after all.”
“Oh, I see.” But in actuality, I only sort of ‘saw’.
I’m an innocent, but Kantú is more of an innocent? What does that mean? I spent a moment in contemplation. I guess she does always have an easier time accepting the unbelievable than I do. And with my addiction’s jealousy . . .
“So,” said Darch, “which one of you will it be? Who wants to purify the condensed shadow for Ardette? Only a few tears are all it takes!”
At once, Kantú’s tail began swishing nervously.
“We’d have to cry? I don’t know if I can do that!” Her words started normal enough, but they soon turned rushed, excited. “I don’t like crying! It makes me really, really depressed, and I hate being depressed because then my tail fur starts to thin. Do you realize what that would mean? Among Squirreleans, I’d significantly lose points in the intimidation department! Even though my tail is overly-big to begin with, I just don’t know if I can risk it! You never know when a beautiful, bushy tail like mine might come in handy, right?” Ears perked, she gave Ardette an apologetic look. “I’d like to help, but . . . er, sorry.”
Squirrelean intimidation? Toll Garrich, the only other Squirrelean I’d seen her interact with, hadn’t been intimidated upon meeting her at all.
In the aftermath of Kantú’s ramble, everyone stared at her with bewildered expressions until finally Darch broke the silence.
“Aura, then?” He winked again. “Guess it’s up to you.”
Up to me? I didn’t like the sound of that.
“I would, it’s just . . . can I think of something sad enough? It’s not like crying is hard for me or anything, but . . .” Can I if put on the spot? Failing in front of everyone, even after everything, would still be so embarrassing!
“Don’t worry, my friend.” Beaming at Ardette, Darch placed a hand on my shoulder. “I could always tell her a story-”
“Absolutely not.” Ardette’s eyes were immediately wide, livid with ‘you’d-better-not-go-there-if-you-don’t-want shadow-forced-down-your-throat-until-you-burst’.
I studied his overreaction with surprise. That again?
“Heh.” Grotts let out a snigger.
But I was still worried. Story or not, what would happen if I failed to cry? I knew the answer to that scenario, of course. Nyte’s memories would remain locked away . . . and my memories too. We’d be that much more delayed in reaching Illuma, wouldn’t we? And it would be over something as stupid as a couple of tears.
Sensing my apprehension, Nyte asked, “Why is purification necessary in the first place? Can you not simply drink it with impurities?”
Ardette raised a brow. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Then you’d be without competition.”
Competition? Oh, brother.
“Condensed shadow,” explained Scardo, “in its purest form, is dark enough to kill a Daem. That is why it was such an honor to be in charge of Ronal’s-”
Ardette forced a sneeze, which was certainly only to cover up the word, “kiss-ass.”
Their feuding could have gone on all day, but Grotts, ever the babe-sitter, urged them along. I was grateful for it, too.
“All right, lollygaggers, let’s git goin’. The dargons’ll be actin’ up soon as the sun starts droppin’.”
“Eek! Really?” Kantú grabbed my arm.
I held onto her arm, gave her a determined look, and pulled her along beside me. Together we continued our trudge up the slight slope. It wasn’t the most joyous of trudges, for all the while, I tried to think of sad things.
When the sun ‘started droppin’’, we were still a half hour away from our destination, and I still hadn’t thought of something tear-evoking. There was, of course, one thing that would have certainly done the trick, but I wouldn’t let my mind even begin to go there. If I did, the sadness might overtake me.
Illuma.
With shadows growing longer, the potholes looked less and less intriguing and more and more forbidding. Kantú squeezed my arm tighter with each one we passed. It was she who stared at them most intently, but it was Scardo that was first to prove Grotts’ theory.
“Stand back, Miss Heart!”
As was usual for his archery, the arrow was released from his antique bow before I even realized he’d reached for the quiver.
It took me a moment to realize what his target had been, but when my eyes fell upon it, I grabbed Kantú’s arm even tighter than she’d been gripping mine.
A black-green reptile with a long, snake-like tail was coming over the edge of one of the potholes. The creature was far larger than I’d expected – much, much larger than a lizard, nearly as long as Kantú was tall. Its warty back was lined with miniature horns, each sharper than Ardette’s, all of them corroded with the same scum that settled at the pothole’s bed. These looked unfavorable enough, but something even more unsettling was the dargon’s eyes, which were large and red and much like a person’s. They even appeared to express dislike while they bore into our group of slowly-backpedaling travelers.
“Gah! Look out!” I cried.
The arrow had clinked off of the dargon’s side, and in response, the creature had picked up speed, searching for the source of the attack.
“Rend, cover them!” yelled Nyte. He, Grotts, and Ardette were already aligning with Scardo to form a shield. The dargon let out a hiccup of flame but halted its scamper, as if sizing up its competition.
Rend nodded and then bounded in front of Kantú and me while we cautiously slinked away from the creature. Darch scurried behind her.
“Where is your weapon?” Rend threw him a scornful glance from over her shoulder.
“Ha!” Ardette threw his head back. “Darch doesn’t fight! He’s useless!”
“You don’t fight?” said Kantú. She scrunched her face a moment before grinning. “Like me!”
Darch returned a grin even more jovial. “That’s right!” He pointed to his chest with his thumb and very proudly added, “I’m a pacifist. Speaking of which,” – he cupped his mouth and called to the four warriors – “I’d prefer if you didn’t harm one of the Creator’s creatures, friends!”
Grotts’ hammer was already high above his head, rea
dy for a thundering down-pummel, but at Darch’s request, he stopped mid-swing. “Don’t harm it, Darch?! Then whaddaya presume we do?!”
“What are you suggesting?” yelled Nyte. Not fond of Darch’s pacifist approach, he slung the halted hammer a quick, restless glance before darting eyes back to the dargon, which had again started advancing towards them, this time slowly. “It will not think twice about harming us!”
Grotts understood the urgency of the situation.
“Darch?” he growled, impatiently pulling the hammer back a bit more.
But Darch wasn’t at all affected. Still holding his smile, he shouted,
“Be still, friends! I’ll scare it off!”
“Ya’ll wha-”
“Yah!” Darch retrieved the small chunk of obsidian from his pocket and threw it at the dargon with a wild heave. But it seemed his aim was a bit off, for the rock never made contact with the creature.
Still clinging to Kantú, I watched in anxious anticipation while the obsidian flew over the dargon and instead fell into the depths of the pothole, landing some feet down with a loud kersplosh.
“Nice aim,” said Ardette sarcastically. “Can’t even hit one dargon?”
“Well, actually, I was aiming just ahead of it . . .”
“See?” Ardette shook his head at me. “Useless.”
But maybe it hadn’t been such a useless endeavor after all.
In the aftermath of the kersplosh, the dargon’s eyes widened. Letting out another hiccup of fire, it pivoted and retreated into the hole, tail slithering behind. It disappeared entirely, but the last thing to go was the tail’s tip, swiveling like a creature of its own accord. There was a moment of determining silence.
Kantú was first to decide that the coast was clear, so she released me and bounded past Rend.
“Good job, Darch! Guess, it work-”
But however delighted she might be, it was short-lived, for just then she was cut off by a weird rumbling that came from the belly of the pothole and shook the surrounding ground.
“Huh?” The rumbling intensified and made Kantú turn on heel. In a dash, she was back at my side, once again taking the role of ‘clutcher’.
“What is that?” I asked, rooting myself in case of earthquake.
