by Brindi Quinn
“Yeah, of course. Actually, please, take it.” I gladly gave the piece of scale to Darch and turned to Nyte. “Gosh, how were you able to put up with that racket for so long? The thing was in my possession for less than ten minutes, and it was already starting to drive me crazy. And you can pick up on so much more than I can with these,” – I cupped his ears – “so it must’ve been obnoxious, right?”
He placed his hands over mine, brought them down, and slid them behind his neck. “Do not let it worry you. True, it was bothersome when the Feirgh were near, but otherwise it was not so bad.”
“Not so bad? Is that so?” I narrowed my eyes.
Grinning, he nodded, looking too innocent. I knew from my recent experience with the scale that there was no way that was true, but I let him play tough.
“Still, though,” I said. “I see what you meant about finding it hard to concentrate. Anyways, do you feel better now? Or does everything seem eerily quiet?”
“No, the quiet is not eerie.” He laughed. “It is very welcome. My head feels clarity. Finally it feels clarity.” He paused and gripped at the place on his chest where the pendant had previously lain. He was thinking about something. After a moment, he laughed again. “It is strange to put it this way, but for once, I am not under the influence of something charmed. It is relieving, so . . . would you celebrate with me, Miss Havoc?”
“Celebra-”
But without warning, he scooped me up and twirled me around for the fun of it. Laughing, I held on tightly to his cloak at the back his shoulder blades.
“Nyte!” I giggled. “Whoa! H-hey!”
This was good. I liked this version of Nyte – without scale and pendant and with stolen power regained. At long last, he’d be completely free of the burdens of those ‘treasures’.
“Whoa!” said Darch, pulling at his ears. “It even amplifies my perception! But it makes sense now, right? Technically the scale belongs to all of the Elves since it’s one of the treasures of Sredna. That’s why you could hear a mass of them!”
“Is that so?” Nyte was still beaming from ear to ear and holding me up. He squeezed me close again and didn’t set me down.
“Nyte . . .” The others were watching, and I was more than a little embarrassed.
“Do you wish to flee?” he teased. “I will not release you. I will never release you. There is nothing you can do. I am simply too strong.”
“Oh?” I rubbed the back of his arm. “You don’t look that strong to me.” It was a complete lie.
“Your eyes deceive you, Miss Havoc. I am very strong. And fast!” With me still in his arms, he crouched to ready a sprint.
“And most of all,” I said, “mode-EHHH!”
“What was that, Miss Havoc?”
“Modest!” I was now holding on for dear life, for Nyte was sprinting with me down the spring at full speed. How was it possible that he had even more energy now? The breezeless air rushed past us, sending long silver strands behind us like a tail. I rested my cheek against his collar and felt perfect. After several large, prancing strides, he turned on heel and started back to the others. When we reached them, he halted – nearly sending me hurling from his arms – and fell onto the grass.
He wasn’t even panting. Rather, he was grinning boyishly and staring at me with current in his eyes, and that was the point at which I changed my mind. I didn’t ‘like’ this version of Nyte, after all.
I adored it.
“Well, now that your little frolic’s out of the way, how about we actually do something useful?”
I looked up from the energetic lock.
“Er . . . Ardette.” I could only say that much. It was too awkward. I’d seen too much. Heard too much. And, in spite of everything, I still felt too much.
My dragon. Those words flashed in my head, and the awkwardness grew.
The impatient Daem stood there above Nyte and me, frowning. Nyte and I’d eavesdropped when we shouldn’t have, and that fact put a tenseness into the air. Ardette could’ve made the situation worse. He could’ve said something arrogant, or started another fight, or made fun of Nyte’s happiness, but he didn’t. He didn’t do any of those things because he could sense my discomfort, and he respectfully turned away, letting me hide my dodgy eyes in a bush.
“You believe we should return to the beyond?” asked Scardo.
The others had been discussing relevant things in our absence.
“That’s right!” answered Darch.
“Yer plan’s sounds good an’ all, Darch, but do ya even know how this sorta thing works? Is there a special chant or somethin’?”
“I don’t know!” But that fact didn’t keep Darch from smiling. “Guess we’ll see! So, who’s coming with me?”
It was fun, but I guess it’s time to return to relevance, Nyte.
I didn’t want to, but I knew we had to. I wasn’t fond of the idea of returning to the blackness, either, but I sucked it up, knowing that any information divulged by the spirits would be useful and also realizing that any secrets divulged would be kept from me if I wasn’t present.
In the end, it was Darch, Ardette, Nyte, Scardo and I who decided to return with scale in hand.
~
Returning to the void was as dreary as I expected it to be. Lost in timelessness, I once again felt like I wasn’t real. Like my life was suspended in a jar of water being sloshed around with no purpose or path.
I hoped our time here would be short. Or that our non-time would feel short.
“My, my, look at you,” said Ardette, shooting a sly sideways glance at Nyte. “You’ve certainly calmed down a bit.”
“As have you,” retorted Nyte. “You do not seem as ornery as usual. You have my congratulations.”
“You have no idea how touching something like that is, coming from you.”
Yes, the beyond was affecting all of us again.
“Darch, let’s get this over with as quickly as possible, okay?” I said, stealing a look at the haunting feet above our heads. I couldn’t decide if it would be more unnerving to see the bodies that went with them, or less.
“Y-yes,” stammered Scardo. “Miss Heart, I think it would be best if you remain by my side through this endeavor.”
“Scardo, I’m fine where I am.”
“Please.”
“Uhh.” He looked so desperate. “Sure. Why not?”
I humored him, fully believing that his heart might not be able to handle it this time.
“Okay, Darch, give it a go, would you? It’s not like we’ve,” – Ardette paused to inspect his cuff – “got an eternity in here or anything.”
Ha. Ha. I rolled my eyes at Nyte.
“Right-o!” said Darch. Then he started to shuffle about, searching his person. First he checked his right pocket. Then his left.
When both of them turned up empty, Nyte’s eyes grew wide. “Do not tell me that you have misplaced it,” he said, groaning.
“Darch!” Ardette’s eyes, on the other hand, grew enraged. “You had better not-”
“Oh! Here it is! Phew!”
Phew, indeed.
Darch let out an uneasy chuckle and lifted the small, white shard into the air. We waited for something mystic and intense to occur, but nothing happened. The shard just sat there, motionless, between his thumb and pointer.
Darch wrinkled his nose and looked around. “Well, what now?”
“You mean you do not know?” Nyte shook his head and groaned. “Darch, I thought you an all-knowing spirit expert.”
“Well, . . . I am! Yup, I sure am an expert, aren’t I!? Thanks for the boost of confidence, Nytie!” And with that, Darch’s demeanor changed startlingly abruptly. He straightened his slipping glasses, fixed his messy posture, and pushed back the sleeve of the hand holding the shard. Then he flicked the thing into the air and caught it in his fist triumphantly.
“Oh?” said Scardo to himself in quiet observation.
The Magir’s voice had always been soft and young, but wh
en he spoke next, it was deep and rusty, and it carried a certain authority.
“Come to me, oh forgotten one! Come to the one that bears your memory bound to this artifact! Come now! I call you forth by the bindings placed on you by this scale! Come, that I might speak with you again!”
Even in the darkness, the blue of Darch’s eyes sparkled and pulsed, almost as brightly as Elder Pietri’s power. He was a short person, but the way he stood now made him look tall. Powerful, even.
“Darch?” mouthed Scardo, jaw falling. Apparently he’d never seen him like that before either. Ardette treated the situation completely normally, though. They’d probably communicated with dead before. No big deal.
Tch.
I rolled my eyes at Scardo. I think he appreciated it because he let out a blast of determined air through his nostrils.
That’s right, Scardo. I’m just as confused as you, here. Let’s just pretend it doesn’t bother us.
For a moment, there was nothing. No response from the feet. Not even a distant moan or a shuffle or anything. Nyte’s hand was tightly gripped around his sword’s hilt. I didn’t understand why, though. Could a vengeful ghost really be hurt by a physical object? Still, it must’ve brought Nyte some sort of comfort, for he held it steadfastly.
“Well?” said Darch, commanding in his tone. “What are you waiting for, oh forgotten being? COME!”
The last word had a thunder-like energy behind it, and it did the trick.
There was movement from directly above Darch. The feet began to shuffle aside, slowly at first, but rapidly growing to something deemable a ‘scamper’. They didn’t glide. They walked. Like real feet. Again, I didn’t know if the alternative would’ve been more or less comforting.
Scardo scooted closer to me. Nyte shifted his body between Darch and us. Ardette did nothing but lazily play with his hair.
Stupid Ardette. It pissed me off that he wasn’t affected in the least by any of this.
As the apparitions continued to move away, I realized that they were forming a circle in the space around Darch. They were making a space for something. The scale’s primary owner maybe?
We all waited, and Darch didn’t lower his outstretched hand. He kept it straight, unwavering. It was weird to see him like that. There were very few occasions when he showed the knowledge and power from his first life, and this was the most he’d ever shown at once. It was impressive. But no matter how impressive that uncommon stature of his might’ve been, Darch suddenly broke it by turning around and in his normal, light, gleeful voice, saying,
“Guys! I think it’s working! I can hear her!”
“Way to go, Darch,” said Ardette off-handedly. Then he tossed a glance over his shoulder at Scardo and me. “See, it’s all an act, really.”
But what did that mean? Which one was the act?
I didn’t have time to berate the issue, though, because just then, one lonely pair of spirit feet broke through the circle of others and entered its middle. It walked right over Darch’s head and stopped.
Darch looked like he was listening for something. After a moment, he nodded and said,
“Yup! You sure can! But only on the condition that you obey the current holder of the scale . . . which would be me! Do I have your word?”
He waited for the answer that none of us could hear.
“Well, that’s just great! Thanks for your cooperation! Please, please, please, won’t you come down?”
“Come down?!” cried Scardo. This time, both he and Nyte stepped directly in front of me as a blockade. Nyte’s sword had become unsheathed too.
“Come on, guys. It’s okay.” I stood on my tiptoes to see over their shoulders, but I was too short. “Nyte . . .” I whined a little. That didn’t work either.
I folded my arms reluctantly, squatted, and peeked between their legs. I was just in time to see the pair of feet press a toe against whatever barrier it was that was separating it from us. The press turned into a dip, for the barrier fluctuated under the spirit’s press, and soon thereafter, the being’s entire translucent foot broke through, followed by a see-through leg.
Scardo gasped and readied his bow – another motion for which I had no reasoning. There was no physical matter for him to shoot!
The spirit’s descent didn’t stop with its leg. It continued down, through the border of its plane and into our world. The leg was followed by a body. It was a young woman. An Elf, actually . . . and she was completely naked.
“Ah!” Nyte quickly turned his back to her. He stared at my feet, cheeks rosy.
Ardette, however, ogled, grinning like the pervert he was. Scardo set his eyes on the moon, and Darch acted as though nothing was wrong at all.
“Hello!” he chimed. “I’m Darch.”
“Ah,” said the woman, her voice delicate. “You are a Magir. Is that not correct?”
“That’s right, ma’am.”
“And a very young Magir you are. I see that your first life was troubled. I am sympathetic to you. Oftentimes the Creator chooses a very wise soul to live again, but in your case, you were torn from this world too quickly. Perhaps that is why you were granted with this gift. Even so, you are strong, are you not? You are noble.”
Finally, Ardette was intrigued. He dropped his smirk and studied the side of Darch’s face. Had the deceased Elf actually revealed something new to him?
“Thank you, ma’am,” said Darch cheerfully. “Your words are very kind.”
“I am Elder Hennowel Amano. What is it you wish to ask me?”
“Are you aware of the current circumstances of the world?” asked Darch.
Elder Amano nodded. “I have observed it, although I have not experienced it first hand. I existed in a time before the split.”
“Before the split?” I broke through the now-weakened blockade of guardians before me. “Excuse me, Elder. My name is Aura Telmacha Rosh. I am a songstress-”
“Ah. You are the chosen, are you not? And that boy is your emulator?”
“Yes.”
Amano continued to scan the group of us. “He is a protector?” She pointed to Scardo.
I confirmed it with another nod.
Lastly, her eyes fell on Ardette. “And you,” she said, voice steady but a little amused . . . maybe? “That is surprising,” she continued. “I did not expect to see someone like you so close to Célesteen. Pray tell, why do you do it, ancient one?”
Ancient . . . one? I was certain I’d just misheard that. I replayed it again, but the voice in my memory was strong. ‘Ancient one’. She’d definitely said that. But . . . why? First ‘old man’, and now this?
Not getting it at all, I sought out Ardette’s reaction. Unfortunately, he was cool. He cleared his throat and brought his eyes to hers.
“No,” she said, still amused. “You do not need to speak it. I understand the reason. And I was mistaken. Forgive me. You are not an ancient one, after all, are you? I was confused, for I have not encountered something like you before. However, I know what you are. I would take delight in hearing how you have come to be in your current state.”
“Why don’t we save that tale for when I join you?”
“Ah, but who is to say that you will not end up in paradise? This might be the only chance that we meet.”
Ardette laughed a deep and off-guard laugh. “Me? Oh, I won’t be making it into paradise. Trust me.”
“Very well. We will save it. Now then, commander of the scale. What have you summoned me for?”
“There is something specific I’ve come to ask, but first please speak with the chosen Pure Heart. If I know her, she’s got a few things she’d like to ask you.” He winked at me. “Aura?”
“Oh! Thanks, Darch.” I took a step closer to the elder, finally getting a good look at her. She was in her third decade. Or at least, that’s how she appeared. Her hair was long, much longer than Rend’s, but I couldn’t tell if it held the same emerald quality. That muted, semi-transparence didn’t allow for a true display of
the woman’s coloring. Her eyes were large and playful. Her other features petite.
I didn’t study any farther down.
“Elder Amano,” I said, tipping my head, “thank you for speaking with me.” She nodded, so I continued, “You said that you were alive before the Great Divisia, right? Well, I was wondering . . . Was the world . . . Was it bad then? Was it depraved?”
“No, Songstress Rosh. The world was not bad then. The world was one, and things were good.”
“Good? But wasn’t there death and destruction? What about the war between mekanix and magic?”
“That was a misguided quarrel, yes. However, war is a way for things to be decided. For society to mature. Out of the vestiges of conflict come many good things.”
Pacifist Darch would definitely disagree with that statement. He didn’t say anything against it, though. He was being respectful of my question and answer time.
“What do you mean ‘misguided’?” I asked.
“The natural flow of things is to innovate, is it not? Are people not meant to grow and expand? I believe that magic was a starting point for the races. It was a holy gift, given to get civilization onto its feet. However, after we began to sustain ourselves, it is my belief that magic was meant to die out. That is how the Creator intended things to be. In separating the land, the Songstress was going against that plan. She was going against His will. That is why, in order for history to move on, the world should be brought back together.”
“Back together?!” I blurted, for I was surprised.
That was something I’d least expected to hear. Was this ancient Elven elder really siding with Illuma? Siding with Druelca? Siding with Lusafael? She was . . . in agreement with the bad guys? How could that be!? She was good. I could tell. She was certainly good, so why . . .
“Wait,” I said. “That might’ve been how things were meant to happen, but that’s not how they came to pass. As things are now, rejoining the land will kill thousands. That’s too much bloodshed! And the rejoining of the land is sure to bring about war. You might think it beneficial, but even more lives will be lost! With how frail the current state of the Westerlands is, how can we allow something like that? War would end us! Isn’t the way to move forward to start anew in a world without Druelca? Keep things separate to save lives and begin on a new path?”