Forest of Lost Secrets

Home > Other > Forest of Lost Secrets > Page 3
Forest of Lost Secrets Page 3

by Emmett Swan


  She looked out at the happy throng of people in the plaza as they laughed at some new joke. Perhaps the joke was her.

  She shook her head and swallowed the growing despair. Yes, she was angry at Neasan for not doing whatever it took for them to be together. But she knew he loved her and was doing what he thought he must. Neasan’s father was angry and that anger was fresh in Neasan’s mind. But with some prodding, perhaps she could make him realize how wonderful life could be when they were together, living their lives in one realm. They could live in contented joy together. She just needed the opportunity to spend time with him. To show him her true colors. Her feelings felt too natural, too right. She couldn’t give up.

  Damn the mirclair! She would take it upon herself to reunite them. She would find a way. She had made up her mind.

  Three

  After the cab came to a stop in front of Connaree Manor, Jessica and Riley got out and stretched, looking up at the house before them. It was a gray stone structure with a relatively small door. An arched transom was built over the door and above it, a small steep gable cut into the roof. There were no grand steps leading to the front door. Just a small stoop with one step. On either side of the door, white wooden benches backed up against the stone wall. Green ivy covered nearly half of the facade. On either side of the house, massive bay windows made of glass panels seemed large enough to house a room by itself.

  Jessica took in the blue sky, now nearly free of rain clouds. Also gone was the rainbow. But the green pastures, tinted with a golden glow from the late afternoon sun, were picturesque. The air was richly scented with late spring flowers and the ever-present hint of manure. The bleating of sheep, somewhat distant, reached her ears. Her spirits buoyed upward and she smiled. It was a fine place to spend the summer. Perhaps she didn’t need a rainbow to find some gold.

  “Will I carry in your bags?” asked the driver, stepping out of the front seat.

  At that moment, the front door opened and Aunt Noreen and Uncle Basil bounded out, their faces beaming. An older couple that Jessica did not recognize followed them.

  Aunt Noreen, giggling with excitement, came up to Jessica and gave her a big hug, her curls tickling Jessica’s cheek. With jet black hair and pale, freckled skin, she looked like she belonged to Ireland, yet she was their father’s sister and was born in Louisville.

  “You made it! Oh my God. I can’t believe you’re here!” she cried, looking Jessica over before moving on to Riley and giving him an equally enthusiastic hug.

  “Welcome to Connaree Manor,” said Uncle Basil, awkwardly hugging Jessica and giving Riley a strong handshake. He was quite tall with gray hair and deep-set eyes. Jessica thought him quite dashing in his riding jeans and thin black turtleneck.

  “We’re going to have so much fun!” squealed Aunt Noreen.

  “We’re excited to be here,” said Jessica. “Your place is beautiful.” She glanced around and used her arms to encompass the whole scene. “The green fields, cool stone fences, and scent of flowers in the air. It’s sublime and wonderful.”

  Riley rolled his eyes. He mimicked Jessica in a fake female voice. “The scent of flowers in the air is sublime and wonderful.”

  “I see you’re still a poet,” said Aunt Noreen, ignoring Riley’s ridicule and hugging Jessica again. “I have such a talented niece.”

  “I hope you two didn’t mind us not meeting you at the airport,” said Uncle Basil. “We had to take a non-driving friend to a funeral this morning.”

  “They were in good hands,” said the driver. “The bags are in the boot. Will I get them?”

  “That’s quite all right, driver,” replied Uncle Basil. “We’ll retrieve them.” He motioned to the other couple.

  The older couple walked toward the back of the cab. The man, about sixty, had a protruding forehead laced with blood vessels. The woman had squinting eyes and tiny, almost shriveled, ears.

  “This is Meeda and Gerald,” said Uncle Basil, turning back to Jessica and Riley. “They help us out around the house. If you need anything and don’t know where it is, they’re the ones to ask.”

  Meeda and Gerald stopped for a second and politely bowed. It took Jessica a moment to get it, but then she realized they were servants. She had never been in a home that had servants, and it made her a bit uncomfortable.

  Riley stepped forward and extended his arm. “Glad to meet you, Gerald.” Gerald briefly and disdainfully looked at Riley’s hand, awkwardly nodded, and continued toward the trunk of the cab, which the driver had just opened. Gerald began pulling out their bags and handed two to Meeda.

  “Oh, don’t worry about those,” said Riley, stepping up to the trunk. “I’ll get my own stuff.” He reached for a bag.

  “Me too,” added Jessica, coming around to the rear of the taxi. “My suitcase is pretty heavy.” She reached for one of the bags that Meeda was holding.

  “It’s quite all right,” Meeda snipped. She straightened her shoulders and visibly strengthened her grasp on the suitcase handle, not hiding a frown. “I’ll take them.”

  Jessica grabbed the handle of the bag and tugged, but Meeda didn’t let go. They both stood there for an awkward moment.

  “Please, Jessica,” said Aunt Noreen. “It’s kind of you to offer, but let them take your bags. That’s what we employ them to do.”

  Jessica released her grip on the suitcase handle, biting her lip. Both she and Riley stepped back from the trunk reluctantly. “This is going to take some getting used to,” she said, though mostly to herself.

  “Well,” said Uncle Basil, lightly clapping his hands and rubbing his palms together. “Let’s go inside, shall we? We’ll show you around.”

  Gerald and Meeda continued unloading the trunk without glancing at Jessica or Riley. Uncle Basil paid the cab driver and led the two of them toward the house. Jessica and Riley exchanged an uneasy look and walked to the door. All was quiet save the sound of crunching pebbles beneath their feet.

  Jessica’s eyes had to adjust to the relative darkness of the interior. As she looked around the narrow entrance hall, the pleasant scent of lavender and baking bread washed over her. Dark chair-molding bisected the walls, and the top section was covered with diamond-patterned wallpaper. Near the door was a wooden bench with a coat rack built into it.

  Their aunt and uncle took them into each room of the house, every one beautifully but simply decorated with bold fabric patterns and dark wood antiques and paneling. To Jessica, it all seemed traditional and homey. She liked the place.

  At last they were led to their upstairs rooms where Jessica and Riley found their bags and belongings neatly stacked inside.

  “I know you two must be weary from your travels, so take some time to unpack and relax,” said Uncle Basil, standing behind Aunt Noreen in the doorway.

  “And Riley, I’m sorry that your room is so feminine, but we only have girls, you know,” said Aunt Noreen. “It’s Emma’s room.”

  “It’ll be fine,” said Riley, eyeing the frilly lamp on a small table by his bed. Underneath the glass tabletop was a lace doily. Hand-woven lace curtains hung in the window. “Looks great, Aunt Noreen.”

  “Well, feel free to change things around as you please,” she added. “Dinner will be served in an hour. We can all catch up then.” She put her hand on Jessica’s shoulder and scrunched her own shoulders together. “We’re going to have so much fun this summer,” she squealed before turning to leave. Uncle Basil smiled and followed her out.

  The door closed behind them, and Jessica and Riley looked at one another. The door opened again. It was only Aunt Noreen’s smiling face. “So much fun!” she repeated.

  “Come dear,” Basil’s voice urged. “Let them rest.” Then the door closed again.

  Four

  After a restless night filled with dreams of Neasan, Keeva rose early and returned to her terrace with a basket full of walnuts. The morning air was cool and the mist was quite thick, though below the terrace railing she could just make out
the dark outlines of a little cottage. It belonged to Iragram, her father’s mystical consultant and engineer. At this early hour, he would be asleep inside.

  She tossed the walnuts, one by one, down at the vague shape of his cottage. They bounced off the shake shingles of the roof with a loud clack. It took half her basket, but finally she saw a thin form emerge from the cottage.

  “Iragram!” she called in a loud whisper. “It’s me! Keeva.”

  Iragram looked up at the terrace, where Keeva looked down at him.

  “My dear Princess, why are you playing tricks on me at such an early hour?”

  “I need to speak with you. It’s important. Please come up.”

  “Now?” he asked incredulously. “I must dress first.”

  “Don’t delay!” she retorted with a huffy breath, looking behind her and around, making sure no one was listening. “Please,” she added before stepping away from the rail.

  Iragram had free access to the interior of King Brecan’s residence, and a minute later, she heard the door to the terrace open, and a disheveled and unwashed Iragram appeared before her. The people of Derfaria were naturally tall, but Iragram towered above them all. His frame was so thin that his hastily donned robe, trimmed in yellow and silver, appeared to be in danger of falling from his shoulders at any moment.

  “What is it, Keeva?” Iragram’s voice was urgent, concerned. He peered at her. “You don’t look well. Your eyes are red and your skin is pale. Are you ill?”

  “I had a long night.” She sighed. “But I’m okay.” She patted the stone bench. “Sit, my dear Iragram. I must ask you some important questions.” Her mind had been churning all night with plans to get Neasan back. If anyone could help her, it would be Iragram.

  Iragram continued to stand, blinking his old watery eyes, skin sagging at the outside corners. “Questions? You summon me at such an hour to ask questions? Could this not have waited, my dear?”

  “Iragram, please sit.” Keeva patted the bench again. “Or I will summon the king so that he can ask you why you choose to disobey his daughter.” She shot him a stern glance for emphasis; it never hurt to remind people of their place. It was a bluff, of course. Her father would certainly side with Iragram if she called him. But she continued glaring, exuding as much authority as a seventeen-year-old could muster.

  Iragram sat heavily beside her, exhaling as if it took great effort. He then turned to her, giving her his full attention.

  “I am here to serve King Brecan’s family.” He opened out his palms. “What is it you would like to know?”

  “Thank you, Iragram.” She smiled. “Such is the price of being the wisest man in Derfaria.” A little flattery never hurt, she thought, though it was likely true. “I can only ask these questions of you.”

  “Wisdom has its pitfalls, my dear,” he mumbled through a yawn.

  Keeva settled more fully onto the bench and smoothed imaginary wrinkles from her robe. Breathing out once, she closed her eyes to organize her thoughts, then opened them and began.

  “Do you know of mirclair?” she asked, getting straight to the point.

  “Mirclair?” Iragram looked surprised, his eyes widening. “The red elixir?” Keeva nodded vigorously. “Why yes, of course!” he said. He looked at Keeva suspiciously. “It is an extremely rare potion with which one can travel between realms. It is little known, so I am amazed you ask of it.”

  “And do you know how to distill it?” she asked, leaning closer to him in anticipation.

  Iragram shrugged. “I know the basics. But it cannot be made here, for it requires a substance called gold, of which there is none in Derfaria. Panagu has a little.” He put his hand to his chin in thought. “But most of it is found on Earth.”

  Keeva looked down, wrinkling her brow in thought. She looked up at Iragram again and leaned even closer toward him, leading with her elegantly covered shoulder. “But you are wise, Iragram. There must be a way…” Keeva trailed off, letting her words hover in the air.

  Iragram shrugged again. “There is no way.” His tone was firm. “At least without gold. If we could somehow travel to Earth, we could gather some and make mirclair. But without mirclair, we cannot go to Earth to collect gold.” He brought his hands together as if the conversation were over, and stood up to leave.

  “I can’t accept that!” blurted Keeva. She jumped up, sending the half-full basket of walnuts resting in her lap scattering across the terrace. She began pacing back and forth, kicking a few of the walnuts. “I must get to Panagu,” she cried, her hands on her hips and her toe tapping when she stood still. “You must help me.”

  Iragram spread his hands. “I cannot perform miracles, my dear.”

  “What can you do?” she taunted. “You are the highest-ranking mystic in this land and you can’t help? Why are you paid such a lavish salary?” Keeva’s cheeks felt flush as she puffed out a frustrated breath.

  “I perform many functions. Some people, such as your father, consider them important.”

  Keeva stamped her foot, crushing a hapless walnut. “I want to go to Panagu! There must be something you can do to help.” Keeva felt like a child throwing a tantrum, but Iragram had never let her down before. There had to be a way.

  Iragram took his time responding. He reached down and slowly adjusted one of the silver-colored tie straps holding his robe in place. Keeva fumed but patiently waited.

  “There may be something,” he finally said.

  “What is it?” she cried, sitting back down when he did and taking his hand to pull him down beside her. “Tell me. I will reward you, my trusted friend.”

  Iragram studied Keeva’s face for a long second and let out a breath. “For many years, I’ve struggled with the problem of how to distill mirclair. Despairing of acquiring gold, I tried making it with silver. My early attempts failed, but recently I have succeeded in distilling a few drops of something somewhat similar. But it has shortcomings.”

  “Shortcomings?” asked Keeva, though she didn’t let her new hope become daunted. “What are they?”

  Iragram blinked and held up his index finger in caution. “As it is not true mirclair, it will not allow one to transport to other realms. At least not fully. What does transport is a feeble projection of one’s self. You are there but like a spirit—visible only in low light. And one’s capacity to physically interact with the environment is severely limited.”

  “Strange. Yet…” Keeva pondered this new information. “So by using this false mirclair, I could at least travel to Panagu and move about? I can witness things? But no more?”

  “Well, one can speak. And even apply elixirs. Though”—Iragram began waving his finger at Keeva—“since the elixirs are transported using false mirclair, their potency is weakened.”

  “Hmm,” said Keeva. She picked up two walnuts and cracked one open, nibbling on its meat while staring out into the distance. Finally, she turned to Iragram. “I request that you give to me this imperfect mirclair and instruct me on its use,” she demanded. “Please,” she added, her voice softening.

  “There is not much,” replied Iragram. “And it is costly.”

  Keeva stood and walked to the rail, taking in the misty landscapes below her. She had made up her mind. “I will pay you what is required,” she said. Then she returned to the bench and looked down on Iragram, still seated. “And Iragram?” she whispered, looking briefly around her.

  “Yes, Princess?”

  “Keep this from my father and I will pay you double.”

  Iragram scratched his chin and nodded. “I understand.”

  Five

  It didn’t take Jessica long to unpack her things and organize them in Molly’s empty drawers and closet. She put her underwear and socks in the top drawer, tops in the second, and skirts and jeans in the bottom. Coats and shirts she hung in the closet. Once everything was neatly arranged, she pulled out a velvet bag that contained Curtis’s framed picture. She touched the glass-covered photograph but felt no warmth from C
urtis’s skin. Swallowing hard and blinking her eyes, she set the picture on the bedside table. A little shrine to her Curtis. It was the least she could do.

  She stood up and spent several minutes exploring her new room, inspecting pictures and examining Molly’s collection of unicorn figurines. She remembered Molly collecting them when she was a young girl and had brought a few with her when she visited Louisville years ago. She picked one up and examined its jewel-encrusted body. At the time, she had been so jealous of Molly for having them, but now they seemed silly and insignificant. She felt more like an adult now.

  “What a bitter way to reach maturity,” she mumbled. “Nothing like death or the hopelessness of guilt to catapult one into adulthood.”

  “Knock it off, Jessica,” she said and looked around for another distraction. She perused the contents of an old-fashioned jewelry box that sat on the dresser, but nothing inside captured her interest.

  She sat on the bed to text Sylvia back in Louisville. But after she sent the message, she received an immediate alert—message was undeliverable. She tried several more times, but her phone repeated the message. She thought about calling and walked around the room, holding the phone high in the various corners and even out the window, but with no luck. Zero bars. With no signal anywhere, calling was as useless as texting.

  She wondered if that had been her parents’ plan all along.

  She recalled that dramatic evening two months ago when her parents had told her and Riley that their summer plans would have to be put on hold. She had felt outraged at first, and ranted while pacing around the living room. Her parents seemed calm, offering few responses to her protests. It was an already-done deal, she realized; no amount of outrage would change the course of her summer.

 

‹ Prev