by Brindi Quinn
I spent the majority of the cloudy afternoon recounting between yawns as much of the previous days’ events to Kantú as I knew, but even as the words left my mouth, they sounded like something from one of the Songs of Old. I was still struggling to believe it had all really happened, and I hoped I wouldn’t regret the commitment of cooperation I’d made to Nyte the night before.
A secret deal. For some reason, just thinking about it made me smile. I was frustrated with myself for being so trusting of the captor, but I couldn’t shake it. The warmth or the familiarity or whatever it was, was affecting me somehow.
I tried my best to push those thoughts away as I stumbled along with Kantú.
“So that’s what that red light was?” she asked. “A binding spell?” The question was a whisper, but Rend’s ears twitched.
Scary! I put my finger to my lips to hush Kantú. It was pointless, though. The Squirrelean never had been one for discretion.
“Real Elves can do things like that?” she continued. “I wonder if they’re gonna try to steal our belly buttons.”
Nyte and Rend both twitched this time.
Why would you say something like that?! “Hah! Good one, Kantú!” I tried to cover for her, but it was no use. Rend had already started to ready her hands. Seconds later, that harrowing red blast erupted.
Shoot!
I grimaced and braced, but in the end it was unnecessary because the blast didn’t hit us. It instead zoomed right past, scorching a large gargantula that was crawling up a nearby tree.
Kantú latched onto my arm. “Gross! There are spiders like that out here?!” She squeamishly looked around the ground for more.
I, in turn, rolled my eyes – after all, she was originally from the forest and should have known a thing like that.
Rend frowned over her shoulder. “Keep your voice down, hybrid, or you will attract more!” But Kantú didn’t even notice the insult this time. She was too preoccupied with clinging to me and frantically searching about for spiders.
I pulled the dense Squirrelean tighter and gave her a stern shake. “Kantú! Why would you say that? Do you want to get us scorched?!” I lowered my voice. “Anyway, belly buttons?”
“Yeah,” she said, “you know, Elves steal belly buttons, right?”
I sighed. “No, Kantú. That’s not how it goes. Supposedly, they’ll trade work for buttons – regular buttons. But besides, I think that’s just an old wives’ tale.” The Elves didn’t seem the type to run errands for something as silly as buttons. “I’m sure your belly button’s safe.”
“Really?” She let out a disappointed grunt.
Were you hoping they’d try to steal your belly button? Honestly, Kantú. Yet it made me laugh.
“Well then, how about the one that says it’s good luck to touch an Elf’s ear? It’s supposed to help your digestion or something.”
“Kantú!” I pushed her out of the way just in time, narrowly missing the blast that filled the space between us.
Rend smirked wickedly over her shoulder. Alarmed, Nyte shook his head and threw some kind of muttered reprimand at her, but her evil glint only gleamed more.
“Just zip it, okay?” I whispered. That last one had been too close.
Kantú pouted, though she remained quiet, still checking the surrounding ground for gargantulas.
It was pretty considerable, how wrong our legends of the Elves had been. Belly buttons and lucky ears? It was ridiculous. Nyte and Rend weren’t anything like that. They were strong and agile and intimidating. Escape wasn’t an option. No, it definitely wasn’t even fathomable.
“Whoop whoop!”
I’d been staring at the ground, but at Kantú’s obnoxious outburst of cheer, I snapped my head up, ready to throw her out of Rend’s line of fire.
“What are you on about now-” But what I saw when I looked up made me entirely forget to fear for Kantú’s safety. “Oh!”
The forest had unexpectedly opened into a great field, allowing for a rare break from thick wood and brush. I let my eyes adjust to the newness of the space and muttered to no one,
“Serene.” And then to the others, “We’re continuing through here?”
Rend, the delight that she was, found the question aggravating, but Nyte nodded. “For several days,” he said.
For several days . . . I sighed and took in the field’s beauty.
Knee-high grass swished rhythmically in the wind, accompanied by white puffs of dandrills spotting the landscape. Dandrills were also flowers of Farellah, but I’d never seen so many in one place. The legend was that the guardian spirit of the dandrills had the power to release the youth of the heart – a spell I’d always fallen to – and even today they looked invitingly whimsical as they dancingly tufted just above the grass. As always, seeing them evoked an impulse – an impulse that wouldn’t let me resist the urge to join them.
I forgot my role as a prisoner. Maybe it was the voice of the guardian spirit, or maybe it was just my own childishness. Either way –
“Let’s go!”
– I grabbed Kantú’s hand and towed her along after me racing through the grass.
We ignored Rend’s protests, for it brought release to do something spontaneous. The dandrills were worth it; plus – If binding means being close to Nyte’s warmth again . . . The impulsive thought surprised me but was there nonetheless, brought on by my new dandrill-influenced sense of carefreedom.
And I’m supposed to be ‘mature’ now. Miss Danice would surely be disappointed by my response to the swaying tufts.
For a short while, we twirled and swatted at the puffs, ignoring the Elves altogether. I found it joyous, but I had a slight suspicion that Kantú derived more joy from disobeying the raging Rend than the puffs themselves. Surprisingly, the Elf didn’t blast us with another binding attack, but I’m sure it wasn’t by her own choice. No, it was most certainly some prodding from Nyte that allowed us to make it more than a few strides into the swaying field unharmed.
Nyte really is a kind person, isn’t he? His nature read as such. I didn’t know him, but I was quickly making my mind up about the stranger. A good spirit. Maybe that was what I’d seen in his eyes.
I was just kicking away a particularly large dandrill when the Elf himself suddenly rushed through the grass after us. I assumed he’d had enough, so I turned to face him, ready to be reprimanded, and was surprised to find a giant smirk on his face.
“Follow me!” His eyes were lit with excitement. Maybe the dandrills had gotten to him too.
“Follow you?” I said. “We aren’t in trouble or anything?”
“Trouble?” Ever grinning, Nyte shook his head. “You are not.” He led us back to where Rend was standing and then pointed into the distance. “Look there,” he said.
What I saw was something unforgettable.
It was an animal, but it wasn’t just an animal. The hoofed creature before us was a thing entirely rare. The beast had three horns springing from the top of its head, forming an intimidating crown-like rack. Black and white stripes painted its pelt, flawlessly straight and even, almost too perfect to be real. It stood grazing on the tall grass, unaware of our presence. I felt hesitation, like I was witnessing something holy or forbidden, almost like the creature’s very presence commanded respect and veneration.
“Is that a zebron?” I asked breathlessly after a few moments of silent gawking.
Nyte nodded. He glanced down at me with a gentle look in his eyes, and for a moment I felt no longer like a captive, but almost like we were . . . old acquaintances . . . sharing the discovery.
And I blushed.
Why am I getting nervous all of a sudden!?
Though I wasn’t given time to consider it further.
“Hey Aura!” was Kantú’s interruption. She swished her tail around excitedly. “Doesn’t it look so much different than that sketch in Farellah? I never thought I’d see a real one!”
I stiffened, dropping the slight elation of the blush. “That ske
tch?”
Kantú’s mention of it aroused a feeling of sadness within me – a response that was my body’s way of cutting fresh pain into me anytime someone said something that reminded me of her. Of Illuma.
“Yeah,” I said. “Me neither . . .” My voice fell as I became wrapped in the bindings of memory.
As children, Illuma and I’d taken countless trips to Farellah’s small library where a collection of historical documents and recorded legends resided. We would spend entire days reading through the ancient, dusty tomes, pretending that we were the world travelers immortalized within their pages. Most of Farellah’s knowledge of the world was based on the stories of traveling traders, and at some point one had recollected the story of the zebron, even adding a rare sketch to the record books.
“Do you think a zebron will ever come to Farellah?” Illuma asked, excitement welled in her silver eyes.
“Maybe!” My response was hopeful.
She thought for a moment. “If one ever does come, I’m going to tame it and ride it all around the world; then I’ll to come back and add everything I’ve seen to the records. You’ll wait for me until I come home, right?” She stared off into the forest.
“I won’t have to wait, ‘cause I’m coming with you! Two people can fit on a zebron’s back, can’t they?”
“Of course!” she said. Then she gave me a tight hug. “Just wait. We’ll be greater than any of the people in these books. We’ll travel the world and conquer dragons and fall in love with princes.” She threw her arm over her forehead dramatically.
“Dragons!? And princes? Aren’t those just old fairytales?”
She shook her head. “The fairytales had to come from somewhere, didn’t they?”
“Oh! I guess.” I admired her common sense.
“It’ll be so grand!” she continued, letting out an exuberant sigh. “Can you imagine?”
“Uh. But I don’t think I want to see dragons.” I drew my finger across a sketch of one that looked particularly fearsome.
“Are you scared?” She reached over and slammed shut the book I was looking at. “Don’t be! We’re going to be songstresses, remember? We’ll be able to blast them away with one song, and if there’re two of us singing, we’ll be unstoppable! Imagine Miss Danice and Mother singing together. Wouldn’t that be something?”
In that moment, she looked brave and determined. I wanted to be like that too.
I mustered up whatever courage I could and pushed away the dragon’s frightening image from my mind. “Alright!” I said, slamming my fist into my palm. “I’ll practice really hard after we start training. Then we won’t even need zebrons to get around.”
She beamed and nodded.
We’d proceeded to plan our trip, giggling between the stacks of books until the orange glow of afternoon light through the window alerted us that it was time to go home.
You should be sharing this sight with me.
But I was the only one on a journey. Illuma had missed her chance.
Missed? No, that wasn’t quite right. The chance had been ripped from her, hadn’t it? Whoever had taken her, be they the coastal waves or some unknown people from across the ocean, they had stolen this from her. I’d made it past the border. I’d done what we’d always talked about, even if it wasn’t of my own accord, but she would forever be left behind.
I needed to enjoy this for the both of us.
I continued to study the zebron, realizing now that the sketch hadn’t done it justice. “Are there more around here?” I asked, breaking the silence. My tone was somber. I tried to mask the sadness that reminiscing had caused me.
Nyte was watching the zebron carefully – as if he might accidentally hurt it with his gaze . . . but his gaze was so gentle, blush-inducingly gentle.
“It is odd for them to travel alone,” he said. “There might be more around here, but I do not think we will come across another.” Tugging his ear, he smiled and added, “We would not be so lucky.”
“Yes, cousin,” agreed Rend, “they are a sacred species. It would be selfish to wish for more. Rarely do they travel this far north.”
Even she was impressed. It was the first time I’d seen her lower her scowl. In its place was a look of affection, something that was oddly unsettling on her.
If I could sketch, I’d draw a new one for Farellah.
The thought was useless since I’d never been artistically inclined, nor had I anything with which to write, and I was certain Rend wouldn’t allow me something as dangerous as a writing tool. An evil destructress like me would surely find a way to use it as a weapon. I rolled my eyes as the scene played out in my head.
“Aww.” Kantú let out a disappointed grumble.
Something in the distance had disturbed the zebron. He froze for a moment before trotting away; and quickly disappeared into the horizon, leaving nothing but the fading tap of his hooves.
“Do not dawdle, Havoc!” Rend’s moment of respite was over.
I gave her a hearty glare, and we continued onward through the field up to our knees in grass. It tickled every time it brushed past my legs, and every so often a wind would pass through it, appearing like an invisible snake skating along the top.
Kantú trotted next to me, getting distracted every now and then by low-flying birds. With each one that passed, she’d leap into the air in an attempt to capture it, letting out animal-like chitters when she pounced. With very short legs that weren’t built for jumping, and that swishing tail that immediately gave away her presence, I wondered if she realized just how slight her chances were. Nonetheless, she persisted all afternoon and finally managed to swat one’s tail-feathers. It was a small victory, but judging by her reaction, to her it was as though she’d caught the whole flock.
I’d been meaning to ask her about the ‘feather lady’ all day, but it wasn’t until that evening, when we were setting up camp, that we were first free from the Elves’ listening ears.
“Pssst, Kantú.” I gestured to her in the midst of Nyte and Rend’s tent-assembling.
She tiptoed over, much more obviously than if she would’ve just walked, and said in a very loud whisper, “What is it?”
I looked over to make sure the Elves were still preoccupied. Satisfied, I started, “Last night you said something strange.”
“Huh?” She cocked her head to the side.
“Who is that ‘feather lady’ you were talking about? Did you mean Miss Danice?”
“Oh that!” She sounded embarrassed. “Don’t laugh, okay?”
Laugh?
I nodded and she continued, “For the last couple of weeks there has been this weird voice that randomly pops into my head, and it usually just says strange, cryptic stuff.”
“A . . . voice?” That was never a good sign.
“I’m not crazy, okay? Just bear with me. So, sure, I thought I was going crazy at first, but then the voice actually told me that you were going to be in danger, and I thought hmmm, something useful, so I listened to it, and it was right! And I had no way of knowing on my own that you would be in danger, so that just proves that the feather lady is real!” She leaned closer to me, and her eyes grew wide. “I think it’s a spirit from beyond the Mistlands!”
“Ah . . . Beyond the Mistlands? Hmm.” How should take this sort of thing? A voice? A spirit? I chewed my nail and thought about it. It did sound pretty crazy, but then so did this entire kidnapping. In fact, I’d been surrounded by a lot of crazy lately, so who was I to judge which crazy was more believable?
Kantú’s expression was earnest, and it seemed like she was serious; and she’d never lied to me before, so . . . Very well. I decided I believed in the mysterious force, even though it was unnerving to admit that a spirit like that might be real.
“So, why do you call her ‘the feather lady’?” I asked.
“Oh, that’s the weirdest part! After she talks to me, she throws a pile of feathers all around. Now, you know how much I love feathers, but I have to admit, it freake
d me out at first!”
“Uhh . . .” It threw feathers at her? Why? Was that even possible? Even if I believed in the existence of spirits, them moving about physical objects was something else to swallow.
I wanted to find out more about this strange spirit of Kantú’s, but Rend’s impeccable timing cut our conversation short. “Come, creatures. The tent is ready.”
Creatures? I sighed, Kantú scowled, and we reluctantly walked back to the two Elves.
Later that night, as we lay on the hard floor of the canvas tent, Kantú said in my ear, “You believe me, Aura, don’t you?”
I smiled at her. “Of course.” I do, but . . . I hoped the darkness shrouded my worry.
She snuggled up next to me, and together we drifted off to sleep.
~
The night brought a familiar dream; the very same I’d experienced in the meadow, but this time it was in focus.
I was walking through a dank cavern. Wet, sinewy cords of vine hung from the ceiling and tried to catch my skin. Broken mirrors of silver-coated glass scattered the walls, disfiguring my reflection with each one I passed. Their various jarred grins and half-faces made me afraid. They were just reflections, but I felt like they held some ill-intent – like the freaky fragmented pieces of me could climb out of the mirrors and come after me. I tried to ignore them, but as I continued, the vines grew stronger and tried to force my head to turn to the distressing images.
A blue orb of light came into view. It flitted about in the distance before me, dancing in taunt. Was that my song?
I ran toward it the best I could, swatting away the vines that clung to me, but the orb never seemed to get any nearer.
Why won’t you let me catch you? Is it because I didn’t finish the Rite? I’m sorry. Please, come to me!
But before I could catch it, a burst of red light shot through the darkness behind me. It bounced off the mirrors, illuminating the cavern in an eerie red glow.