Heart of Farellah: Book 1

by Brindi Quinn

  Magic versus mekanix?

  I kept my eyes on the officers and tried to keep up with them, but I didn’t really understand any of it. The world had split into two parts? But how could land be moved? How could land be broken? I had a barrage of questions, but I had no choice but to keep them pent up; the officers seemingly had no intention of halting the tale.

  “The world was filled with war,” said the Squirrelean, speaking for the first time. His accent was so thick that I could barely understand the words. “It was a time of ruin and despair.”

  “Finally,” purred the Daem, “a songstress arose that offered a solution. She composed a song that would break the land apart and place an eternal barrier that none would be able to cross. For this purpose she offered up her life.”

  Wait, what?! A songstress had done that? But how? Even Miss Danice, the most accomplished songstress in Farellah, was powerful enough only to move about wind, mist, sand and water . . . but a mass of land; rather, an entire continent? That was impossible! I let out a frustrated garble, but no one noticed.

  “Thus, the lands were broken,” continued the girl. “The Easterlands took with them the power of mekanix but in doing so lost the knowledge of magic. This split was known as the Great Divisia.” She turned to the Magir, unblinking, and he nodded.

  “Through the centuries,” he said, “mekanix have been invented again and again, but it is Yes’lech’s duty to put a stop to them before they reach a certain point.” He squinted at Grotts. “We’ve received word of a bell in Astenberry that is such a case, by the way.”

  Grotts nodded.

  A bell that tolls every hour on the hour. The power of mekanix. Once again, I wasn’t given time to contemplate.

  The Daem gestured around the room, evidently showing off its architecture, and said, “There are other remnants dotting the land from the dawn of mekanix technology. This fortress, Druelca’s Castle and the Orolian Tunnel are a few examples. All incredible feats of construction.”

  I followed her around the glassy room and marveled at what an incredible power this ‘mekanix’ must be. Was something like that really so bad? It had created so much; given people the ability to accomplish things otherwise impossible.

  No! What are you thinking? A small, internal voice prodded me, calling me from the overpowering influence of the glass. If mekanix means giving up magic, the Creator’s sacred gift to the races . . .

  I instantly stopped my marvelings. It’s true, such things were impressive – glass rooms and stone fortresses – but my internal reprimand had been right. Sacrificing magic was something I couldn’t justify. It was wrong. It was immoral.

  The small girl piped up again, her voice monotonic. “There were some remaining in the Westerlands that held onto the enmity against the Easterlands, enviously convinced that the Easterlands kept the better part of the land. They formed Druelca and have been searching to gain what they believe is their rightful land ever since. Their main castle resides on the edge of the mist, and many of the Druelcans have become corrupted by its influence. They are an entirely unstable people; a dangerous nation that seeks to wreak havoc upon the Westerlands to gain the land of the Easterlands.”

  The female Elf stiffened at the words. It was her time to speak.

  “They have long sought the aid of the Elves in their quest, waging war when help was not offered freely,” she said, tone passionate. “Elder Nosrac made a treaty with them two centuries ago, but they continued their quest in secret, capturing defenseless children and forcing them into slavery.”

  It reminded me of Nyte, being captured as a boy, and my own sister, still in captivity.

  Druelca did that to them for the sake of taking back the land?

  With that thought, an unseen force started to press on my chest, weighting me with the reality of Druelca’s evil. Was The Mystress not content with our own vast Westerlands? She needed the rest as well?

  As I contemplated it, the anger – no, the hatred I’d previously felt towards Druelca flared in me again. What a despicable nation they were! Corrupted by the mist? Was their insanity really attributed to that, or just their own blind greed?! Either way, their actions had been unforgivable!

  The Elf was still talking, but I was no longer listening. My fists were shaking with rage.

  Cool it, Aura, I warned myself.

  But this hatred is justified!

  Keep a cool head, otherwise you’ll be blinded.

  That’s fine! If that blind rage will give me the strength to defeat them!

  No, that’s not you. You aren’t ‘wrathful’, remember?

  Er- The thought struck me. I wasn’t wrathful. At least, I hadn’t been before all of this. No, I’m not.

  The hatred instantly subsided, and my shaking hands let up a bit. But what had just happened to me? Ashamed, I sat on my fists to conceal the remaining trembles and focused on receiving the sacred knowledge, hoping I hadn’t missed much in my lapse of rage.

  The Daem was now speaking.

  “Before the songstress offered up her life,” she said, drilling her red eyes into me, “she warned that there would be two powerful songstresses coming with the power to reunite the land; the Hearts of Havoc and Salvation. The true prophecy she left at the Inscription of Ulan and can only be understood by the Hearts.”

  I did my best to keep her gaze, but it was unnervingly intense, and in the end, I looked away.

  “Once read from the stone wall,” she continued, “the Hearts would gain the knowledge to bring the land back together, but it would come at a terrible price. A sacrifice would need to be offered up with the Song of Destruction. Once sung, the coastal towns would be devoured by the crashing of the land. Yes’lech, Farellah, and hundreds of others would be destroyed, thousands killed, and magic would eventually disappear altogether. Only the Song of Salvation would be able to combat this destructive power.”

  At these words, I choked on nothing. Farellah would be destroyed?! I mean, I’d known that the Song of Destruction was bad, of course – after all, it had the word ‘destruction’ in its title, so something like that couldn’t be good – but now it just seemed to hit home. Literally. My village and all the other coastal towns would be . . . !

  Thousands killed? I fought to hold back the returning rage.

  “The Songs of Salvation and Destruction can only be used on ad’ai,” explained the Magir.

  “The sacrifice’s ad’ai?” asked Ardette quietly. He bowed his head, unusually respectful.

  “Ad’ai is not what you believe it to be,” answered the mustached man. “True, it refers to a songstress’ coming of age, but a much more ancient definition is the moon’s coming of age. More specifically, the western moon’s. We have been monitoring the moon patterns for decades. Your report on the ad’ai was not news to us.”

  Ardette didn’t look the least bit bothered at the news that his moleish findings had been worthless. Instead, he sniffed and rested his cheek in his hand in an air of boredom.

  “This is why we sent them to retrieve the Heart now,” explained the small girl. “Not because we heard the whispers of Druelca, but because the coming of age of the western moon is fast approaching.”

  “The Inscription of Ulan resides in the Crystallands,” said the Magir. “The tunnel will open on the night of the full moon – two days from today. From there, it will take you to the Crystallands, surpassing all other obstacles. Follow the tunnel to the Crystallands, read the Inscription and then return. An army will be waiting for you.”

  “But beware,” warned the beautiful Daem, her purring voice turned foreboding. “The Heart must undergo a test of character before the Inscription can be read. If she fails, she shall surely die! Our fate rests in your hands, Aura Telmacha Rosh!”

  Die?

  Everything until now had been a lot to take, but at this news, my insides turned to foam, sloshing around inside of me and struggling to comprehend.

  Ardette and Grotts looked over at me, alarmed. Apparently, it
was news to them too.

  The great test Elder Pietri had mentioned so long ago might end in death. How could I prepare for something like that? I knew I’d risk my life to save my sister, so I’d accept the task, but did I even have a chance? In the end, it would all be up to me; my character. And if I failed? I’d die and so would thousands of others. I struggled to not give into the weight of the concept; better I not fully accept it, or I should waver in my resolve. But how could I cope with it?

  I didn’t know.

  “We have revealed only what you need to know,” said the small girl, pulling me away from the mess of emotions in my body. Her tone had an air of finality to it. “Use the forbidden knowledge, but keep it to yourself. The officers of Yes’lech have spoken. Please, take your leave.”

  That’s it?

  I wouldn’t be allowed to ask questions? Clarify? Take notes? There was too much running through my head; too much I needed to ask. I wanted to protest, to unleash my flood of questions and concerns, but Ardette once again grabbed my wrist and pulled me from the chair. The three of them bowed, and I followed, not sure what else to do with myself under the weight of the six elevated stares.

  I’d been a bewildering experience, and I felt like I’d come crashing to bits at any moment, but I bit my tongue and shuffled out of the windowed room.

  Grotts let out a knowing whistle on the other side of the door. “What’d ya think of ‘em? Pretty intense, eh?”

  I nodded, not sure where to begin. “Elder Pietri is definitely the friendliest of the officers,” I muttered. It was one of the only things I could wrap my head around completely.

  “That’s because he’s retired,” said Ardette. “While active, they have to keep the charade of mystery; quite droll if you ask me.”

  Scardo looked personally hurt at Ardette’s negativity towards his beloved leaders.

  Die. Death. Depart. I stared at nothing, trying to embrace it.

  Grotts understood my internal struggle. He looked at me with compassionate eyes.

  “Aura, don’t worry ‘bout that dyin’ business. We won’t let anything happen ta ya.” He patted me on the arm.

  I appreciated the great man’s reassurance, but it did little to make me feel better. I was just a song-less songstress, but the realization that I held the responsibility of the world’s fate was slowly starting to feel real. Denial was the way I’d chosen all along to handle it, but I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep it up. The knowledge was crushing. Death and life; both concepts that didn’t seem tangible in my constricted frame of mind. It didn’t seem possible, but I somehow knew it was.

  “Hm, yes,” said Ardette, “we’d better agree not to mention it to the Elf. I fear he might do something rash at the news. He’s quite taken with our Aura.”

  I narrowed my eyes. Our Aura? But I nodded.

  It was probably best not to mention it to Nyte or Kantú, as it was certain to cause them unnecessary worry. I’d spare them from the very emotions I was now experiencing.

  I fought to push said emotions away.

  I have to retrieve the prophecy. That was what I had to focus on instead.

  But how much time did we have now? I couldn’t keep it all straight. Two days until the full moon. Then travel to the Inscription and return to Yes’lech. Then release the Song of Salvation on ad’ai. But Illuma’s ad’ai wasn’t the factor that Druelca had been waiting on. It was the western moon’s ad’ai . . . and the officers had failed to mention when it would take place.

  I opened my mouth to ask Scardo, but the young girl’s words replayed in my head: Only what you need to know. Was I better off unburdened by the strain of a time limit? Perhaps I’d refrain from asking, after all.

  Instead, I turned my attention to a less ominous question.

  “What was with that child?” It didn’t seem fathomable that such a young girl had come to be an officer of a secret society.

  “What, is the sacred Heart some kind of ageist?” accused Ardette. “My, my, I wonder how the officers would react.”

  He sounded like the boy from Cana, even though he hadn’t been present at the time.

  “No, it’s just . . .”

  The men shared a humored exchange at my expense. I ignored them, too filled with questions to make a comeback remark.

  “Why?” I said.

  “‘Why’, Miss Heart? Why what, might I ask?”

  “Why everything!”

  Grotts patted my arm again sympathetically.

  “Why did Druelca seal the records?” Let’s start there.

  “To create confusion,” answered Scardo. “Surely the Elves, who rely on magic, would not side with Druelca. But if they created confusion, then perhaps the prophecy would be forgotten or misconstrued, as it was.”

  Okay, that made sense.

  “Well, why didn’t Druelca kill me when they took Illuma? Wouldn’t it be to their advantage to off me before I even had a chance to learn one ariando? Then there’d be no one to stop them.”

  They were silent.

  “What?” I prodded. Another moment of silence passed.

  “Aura,” said Grotts finally, “they did try ta kill ya.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “On the night Yes’lech was betrayed and the barrier was broken, they entered Farellah ta take yer sister and ta kill ya. Luckily, Marbeck and Parnold were keeping tabs on ya. Ya came away from the attack, badly injured, but they managed ta fend off the Druelcans. Unfortunately, they were unable to keep yer sister from bein’ taken.”

  “Attack?” I said. “But that didn’t happen. The night Illuma was taken I remained in my bed, asleep. I didn’t even know she was gone until the following morning!”

  He had to be mistaken.

  Grotts shook his head. “The gal called ‘Danice’ erased the memories from yer mind. It wasn’t the right time for ya ta understand. After that, the barrier was upgraded, and the threat ‘o Druelca enterin’ was no longer an issue.”

  “Erased!?”

  Miss Danice had the power to erase memories? She’d never taught me such an ariando, nor had I ever heard that one even existed. Which of the natural elements would that be categorized under exactly? Mist, like her bird-controlling song?

  My memory was altered . . . I might die . . . I struggled to remain composed.

  Ardette, who’d been silent for Grotts’ story suddenly walked over and looped his arm through mine. “Really, what does it matter?” he said. “Trivial details, hardly worth mentioning. Shall we not enjoy our free time today, my cherry pit?”

  Under normal circumstances, I’d have pulled away, but my mind was too numb to protest.

  An Easterlands . . . Farellah destroyed . . . thousands killed . . .

  “Come along, then. I’ll show you a good time.” Ardette swiftly led me away from Scardo and Grotts. He waved to them before pulling me through one of the white side-doors alongside him.

  Mist’s corruption . . . destruction and salvation . . .

  “Don’t,” he whispered, taking me down a stone staircase.

  “Hm?” I barely heard him, still lost in the swirling ‘everything’.

  Land was whole . . . memories erased . . . mekanix . . . die . . . our only hope . . . sacrifice . . . inscription . . . closed city . . . Great Divisia . . . ad’ai . . . a great test of character . . .

  I was going to be sick.

  Ardette grabbed my shoulders and shook me.

  “Don’t think so much. Let it settle,” he said. His voice was abnormally soft. “It’s too much to try to comprehend all at once. Quite cruel of them to deliver it all so bluntly, if you ask me.”

  It’s too much.

  Teetering, I wrapped my arms around his neck for support.

  “Ah, if only there was intimate intention behind your embrace.” He buried his nose in my hair and inhaled deeply.

  I didn’t even care.

  “Nothing? Not even the slightest rise out of you? How unusual. You really are stru
ggling in there, aren’t you?”

  I said nothing. If I opened my mouth, more than words would escape me.

  He held me by the hip and pulled me through the door at the bottom of the steps. My feet made a dull scraping as I dragged them along.

  “Breathe,” he said.

  We were outside on the grounds surrounded by vine-wall and coast. I did as he instructed. The fresh air felt good. I took it in, and it filtered out a little of the daze; enough for me to gain a little composure.

  We sat down together against the stone side of the fortress, his arm around my neck. The wall was hard and rough, but it offered the support my own spine lacked at that moment.

  “Thank you, Ardette.” I finally felt steady enough to speak.

  “Really, you looked quite unwell there for a moment.”

  “I’m scared.” My voice was timid – not the voice of someone with the power to save the world.

  Ardette raised a brow of sarcastic surprise. “Oh? The courageous Heart feels fear?”

  “What if I fail the test?”

  “Then we’ll all be doomed, of course.” He smiled brightly.

  I was now steady enough to glare. “I’m going to punch in those perfect white teeth,” I said slightly less timidly.

  “You find my teeth perfect? Tell me more things you like about me.”

  “There’s nothing else.”

  “What a terrible thing to say! Truly you’ve broken my heart this time.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  Footsteps sounded from just around the corner.

  “Oh! Aura! Are we interrupting something?”

  It was Nyte and Kantú. Nyte winced at her assumption.

  “Why yes! We were having a lovers’ quarrel.” Ardette brushed his finger across my cheek.

  Kantú, seeming a little jealous at the preposterous notion, gave out a stuffy frown and said, “Is that so?”

  “He only wishes,” I answered, shooing the lie away along with his finger.

  Nyte’s expression softened in relief. “Would you like to come along with us? We are walking to the rocky coast.”