Heart of Farellah: Book 1

by Brindi Quinn

  “Right. A ‘good one’ . . .” Kantú chittered nervously, trying to save face.

  “But why haven’t we ever heard of Magirs before?” I asked. I’d never even heard the word ‘Magir’ mentioned in any of the Songs of Old. Something as exotic as two lives . . .

  “They are extremely rare nowadays. Most of them left during the Great Divisi- Ah!” He clasped his hands over his mouth. “Shoot!”

  “Great Divisi-ah?” Kantú and I said in unison.

  “Please, please, please don’t tell anyone I just told you that! You’ll find out soon enough anyway, but please!”

  “Um, yeah. We won’t say anything, right Kantú?”

  She pretended to zip her lips shut.

  “Thank you! You really are as great as they say! I better go before I spill any more sacred knowledge. See ya at the ball!” With that, he rushed out the door before we could say goodbye.

  “Wow, Aura, it just keeps getting weirder and-”

  Knock. Knock. The dainty-voiced lady was back. “We’ve drawn a bath for you, Miss Heart of Salvation.”

  I cringed at the title.

  “Shall I guide you?” she asked.

  “Sure. Kantú, are you coming?”

  “Naw, I already had a bath. The water was so steamy and nice. You’re gonna love it!” She gave me a thumbs-up.

  I nodded and followed the dainty-voiced lady out into the hall.

  Chapter 14: The Masks

  I opened the door to a flood of color. The hallway to the washroom was lit with vibrant sunbeams shining through strange colored windows built high into the towering walls. The pieces of glass were mismatched shapes in no particular pattern, and the light cast through them spotted the hallway with different shades, a new colored beam for each step.

  “It’s called stained glass,” said the dainty-voiced lady.

  “Stained glass? Weird. I wonder what they stain the glass with.”

  At first, it looked like the nervous woman was going to giggle, but she instead bit her lip, too polite for such things, and stared at the floor, ashamed at her near slip.

  She was formal. I didn’t like things that way; the mood was too stiff.

  “We are one of the only places in the Westerlands that has it,” she said, still staring at the floor.

  “Wow.”

  I followed her through the massive hallway and was quickly captivated by its allurement. Aside from the painted rays, the hallway itself was completely white. The walls, the beams, and even the wooden floor-panels were flawlessly frosted. It contained no furniture aside from elegant chairs placed next to each of the hall’s many white doors.

  It was unlike anything I’d ever seen. Pure and pristine.

  “This is really amazing.”

  The dainty-voiced lady nodded. “It’s the same reaction all strangers have to the fortress.”

  “Would you tell me how it was built? I mean, this massive building, and those high windows and-”

  “That is sacred knowledge!” she blurted. Hand at her chest, she looked astonished that I’d asked.

  “Oh, right,” I said, seeking to retract my offensiveness. “I understand if you don’t want to tell me.”

  That was something I’d grown used to.

  She shook her head vigorously. “No, it’s not that, Miss Pure Heart. It’s just that I am not worthy to know such privileged things.” She gave me an apologetic curtsey.

  “‘Worthy’?” I wasn’t even going to attempt understanding. “Sorry, I didn’t know. What’s your name, by the way?”

  But her eyes darted away when I tried to meet them.

  “You may call me whatever you wish, Miss,” she said.

  I blinked at her. Should I say something like ‘okay, how about Ganglehoff’? But I resisted the urge.

  “I’d like to call you by your name, if that’s okay?” What else, in all seriousness, would I want to call her?

  “Very well.” Her voice grew even daintier. “I’m Poe.”

  “Poe? That’s cute!”

  She shook her head and stared ahead meekly.

  I got the impression she didn’t like me. I was too nosy. Why was I so nosy?

  I remained silent for the rest of the walk, determined not to upset her any further.

  “Here it is, Miss.” She stopped at the second to last door.

  “Thanks, Poe.” I put my hand on the knob. I should’ve turned it, but I was stupid. I asked, “Are you going to the ball tonight?”

  At this, Poe stiffened up, stared at the floor, and nodded. Again, I’d made her uncomfortable.

  Guess I should’ve kept my mouth shut.

  With hands folded properly, she took a seat in the waiting chair.

  I sighed, said nothing, and entered the washroom. I was welcomed by a crisp and minty scent.

  Like the hall, the washroom was completely white. Maybe even more so – from the water’s vapor. In the middle of the floor sat one large basin filled with steaming water and sprigs of yellow afterlily.

  “Ahhh.”

  I undressed and settled into the basin.

  Grateful, I drew the afterlily-infused steam into my lungs, and it was awakening – alike a brisk breath of morning air. In that way, I soaked awhile, but instead of allowing the water to soothe me, my thoughts raced.

  Parnold had said that the Inscription of Ulan was close. How close was close? Would this really all be over soon?

  I wanted to get going, but first . . . A dance?

  The idea still troubled me. It wasn’t that I didn’t like dancing. Actually, I really enjoyed it, but I’d never really danced in front of other people before. That kind of thing was always left to the priestesses. It might’ve been fun to attend a ball . . .

  If it weren’t in my honor!

  I groaned. It was too embarrassing. Way too embarrassing.

  The Rite had been bad enough. Now a ball?

  “Poe?” I impulsively called for her, my voice a little more panicked than it should have been. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

  She quickly swung the door open and rushed over to me. “What is it, Miss?” She sounded alarmed. “Do you require assistance?”

  “Sorry, it’s not really a big deal, but . . . how many people are going to be at this ball?”

  Looking confused, she fiddled with the strings of her bonnet. “Well, I don’t know, probably one or two hundred.”

  “One or two hundred?! That many?!” I’d assumed a ‘secret society’ would be a little bit more exclusive than that.

  I sank below the water.

  I should stay under here.

  I held my breath and tried to calm down. It was foolish of me to ask. I’d have been less nervous not knowing.

  “Miss Heart! Miss Pure Heart!” The voice that breached the water was garbled.

  Huh?

  Before I could understand what was happening, Poe reached into the basin and frantically pulled me out.

  I wiped the water from my eyes and looked at her, startled and dripping.

  “What’s wrong?!” I asked.

  “I-I thought you were going to drown!” She clutched her heart.

  “Drown?” In the bath basin?

  “Yes! If you were to drown, we’d all be destroyed!” Her eyes read true fear.

  Destroyed? Parnold’s words resonated in my head. You have no idea how important you are.

  “I’m really that important to them?” I said the words aloud without really meaning to. It was just something I was trying to understand.

  “Please, Miss Heart. Don’t do anything so dangerous again!”

  So dangerous as going underwater? Was all of Yes’lech so on edge?

  “I’m fine. I practically grew up in water,” I said, trying to relieve her fear. Then I let out a chuckle. “You remind me of Scardo.”

  Her reaction was unexpected. She leaped back from the tub abashedly with a face that was bright red. “S-Scardo? Why do you say that? Did he mention me?”

  I read into her words
, and my mouth fell open.

  Scardo? She likes Scardo?

  I managed to hold back my laughter, though it was difficult when I thought about the nervous, formal man having an admirer.

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “You just have similar temperaments.”

  “Really?” She was eager all of a sudden, and for a moment, it looked like she’d finally dropped the formalities, and I was glad, but then she shrank back into her meager self and stared at the floor. “I apologize. I have overstepped my rank. Please forgive me, Miss Salvation.”

  “Your rank? I don’t really care about things like that.” How could I make her understand? “You said you’re going to the ball, right? Then we should dance together! I won’t really know many people, after all.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “Er, unless you don’t want to?” I added.

  She said nothing, but made a small motion with her head.

  Was that a yes, or a no?

  I opened my mouth to ask, but she scurried away before I could clarify.

  “I’ll be outside, should you need me,” she said. She slammed the door behind her.

  I stared after her, puzzled.

  “Scardo?” I said to myself. “I wonder if he knows.”

  Even though I wasn’t supposed to, I sank back below the water, which had now cooled to warm, and let my thoughts flow. Poe and Scardo treated me like I was . . . delicate. Darch had been so excited when we’d met. Even Ardette, Grotts, and Elder Pietri treated me like something important.

  Important? Me?

  Yes, you.

  But how? I feel so normal.

  But you’re special. Even Illuma thought so.

  She did? That’s right. That time . . .

  Illuma and I had been playing in the rocky caves just outside of town one summer day when we were still kids.

  “Aura, want to play a game?” Illuma asked.

  “Sure!” I said, picking up a stick. “How about pirates?” I slashed the air in front of me.

  “Naw, how about . . . a fairytale game?” Her voice was filled with excitement. It was her favorite type of game to play.

  “Okay! But who’s going to be the princess?”

  “You, of course!”

  “Why do I get to be the princess?”

  She shrugged. “Because you’re special.”

  “I am?” I cocked my head to the side.

  “Yep. You’re innocent.” She said the word like she’d just learned it.

  “I’m innocent? How do you know?”

  “I heard Miss Danice tell Mother.” She grabbed some dead grass jutting out of a nearby rock pile and started braiding a crown.

  “Aren’t you innocent too?”

  “No. Because I’m grown up.”

  “But we’re the same age!”

  “I’m a few hours older, though, and that makes all the difference.” She sounded like she really knew what she was talking about, so I believed her.

  “It does?” I asked.

  “Yup!”

  “Oh . . .”

  “So, that settles it.” She placed the grass crown on my head. “You can be the princess, and I’ll be the prince and the nightwere.”

  “How will you do both?”

  “Like this!” She came close to me. She swept the hair from my cheek and kissed it lightly. “My darling . . . ,” – then her face became scary, and her voice turned grumbly – “I will make you my werewife!”

  “Wow, Illuma, you’re really good!”

  “Of course I am! I want to be a keeper of stories when I grow up. I’ll recollect them to everyone and make them really interesting by acting them out and everything!” She fell against the rocks dramatically.

  It seemed a fitting trade for her.

  “What will I do, then?” I asked.

  “You will sing for me.”

  I will sing for you, my sister.

  Back then, that old rock pile had been our castle. What would Illuma think of this massive fortress with its white halls and soft beds? Today I was like a real princess, soaking in the sprigs. And I hadn’t done anything to deserve it.

  Innocent? Special? Nope, I still felt the same as I always had.

  “Miss Sacred Heart?” A voice called from the other side of the door, cutting off my thoughts. “Are you all right in there?” It was Poe. My silence had worried her.

  Honestly, how could I drown in here?

  “Yeah, I’m fine, thanks.”

  Deciding it’d be best to make noise for her, I hummed the Song of Juniper’s Cry for the duration of the bath and tried to relax. My thoughts finally calmed.

  ~

  “Oh . . . my . . . Creator!” Kantú let out a squeal when I stepped out from behind the changing screen.

  “Does it look . . . okay?” I asked, smoothing out the front of the dress.

  Our ball gowns had been waiting when I’d returned from the bath. Mine was made of sylk, a deep violet with tiny crystals and beads sewn all over it in swirling patterns. It was the most intricately detailed piece of clothing I’d ever seen, and it made my purification gown look like an old rag.

  “It’s really, really beautiful!” Kantú walked around me and admired the gown. “It sparkles when you move!”

  “Really? Thanks.” I examined myself in the bedroom’s mirror. It was just like Miss Danice’s. “I feel kind of naked with my shoulders like this, though. Why doesn’t it have sleeves or straps or anything?”

  She chittered. “Because it’s exotic!”

  “I guess.” I rubbed my bare neck and then turned to her. “Well, hurry up and try yours on. I’m anxious to see it!”

  Kantú’s dress was vermilion with dyed feathers attached in rows down the bottom half. She put it on and twirled about in front of the mirror.

  “I love it!” she exclaimed.

  “You look like a queen.” In truth, it was strange to see her in something so formal. She looked remarkably grown-up . . . remarkably beautiful.

  I’m like a princess, and you’re like a queen.

  “I’m a queen, so bow down before me!” She threw her head back, and for once, her laughter wasn’t a chitter, but a throaty rumble as she forced an evil laugh.

  “Oh, how scary!” I smiled, and she chittered her usual, non-evil chitter, thoroughly pleased with herself.

  “But it really is fitting for you, with the feathers and all,” I continued.

  “You know what? It is! I bet the feather man’s happy too since he seems to love feathers as much as me!”

  “Yeah.” I chuckled nervously. What a strange idea; but it seemed Kantú had entirely accepted the concept of a disembodied spirit living within her.

  We continued getting ready, trying on our shoes and brushing out our hair, but something bothered me. I didn’t want to make a big deal of it, but I couldn’t ignore it, so I tried to bring it up offhandedly.

  “Kantú, have you seen anyone? From the guard I mean?” Even though I didn’t want to be, I was disappointed that I hadn’t heard from any of them since arriving at Yes’lech headquarters.

  “Missing Nyte, hm?” She grinned slyly.

  “No!” I blurted. But it was a lie. “I was just wondering what they were up to, that’s all.”

  “Well, the Elves were only supposed to deliver you to Yes’lech, right? Isn’t their duty over now?”

  Their duty? My heart sank. Not once had I thought about it like that. Duty. That’s right.

  They weren’t part of Yes’lech. They’d only come along because Elder Pietri had commanded them to. Would they return to Yh’tak now that they’d fulfilled their mission? The thought made my chest ache. Unless . . . Another thought intruded my head that made my chest ache even more.

  “They haven’t already left, have they?! Without even saying goodbye?!” I started to feel sick.

  “Relax, I was just teasing.” Kantú, in an attempt to fan away my worry, waved at nothing. “We haven’t seen any of the other guys either, right? And Nyte wouldn’t
do that to you. But that meanie, Rend, on the other hand . . .”

  That was true. Nyte wouldn’t do something like that. We were friends. He’d have to at least say goodbye, right? I breathed a sigh of slight relief, though the worry still lingered. I hoped he wouldn’t do something like that.

  “What happened yesterday after I collapsed?” I asked.

  “Nyte, Rend and I were taken to our rooms, and the other three went to a meeting or something. Grottsy said he’d see me at the ball. So I haven’t really been expecting to run into any of them.”

  At the ball. Good. We’d be reunited then. At least, I thought we would.

  Knock. Knock. Poe tapped on the door.

  “Are you ready for me?” she asked.

  “Come on in!” Kantú pranced over to the door, fairy-like in her new gown, and let Poe in.

  Poe curtseyed. “Then I will proceed with the painting.”

  “Painting?” I asked. “What kind of painting?”

  Poe nodded and took from her pocket a small brush and a vial of white liquid. She walked over and brushed the hair away from my neck.

  She was painting . . . me? I’d never heard of painting a person before.

  She wet the brush and drew it along my collarbone and across my throat, painting on an invisible tattoo. I tried to remain still, but the brush was cold and sent shivers down my back with each stroke. Finishing the necklace, she moved the brush to my wrist, and I asked,

  “What is this stuff?”

  She proceeded to trace the tattoo I already had: Illuma Rosh.

  “It’s made from the earthstones mined by the crystal miners of Crystair. It’ll glow under the firelight,” she said, drawing a ring around my index finger.

  “It’ll glow? Wow!” I looked over her shoulder and examined the painted ring. She’d made it to look like a bent key wound around my finger. “Amazing, Poe. You didn’t mention you were such an artist!”

  She remained silent, but I caught a small spark in her eye.

  She turned to Kantú. “Your turn, Miss.”

  But the Squirrelean put up a fight, chittering uncontrollably each time Poe’s brush got near. “It tickles! Help, Aura, Grottsy, someone!”

  In the end, I was the only one painted, much to Poe’s vexation.