Chloe screamed. Her voice was caught up in a brilliant flash of light. A roaring noise filled her ears. She felt as though she was falling through an unending void. All the cosmos spun around her. Then it all stopped with a gut-wrenching lurch.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Alone in my cell I was far removed from the weeklong celebration going on inside the castle. The hubbub meant little to me. The overthrow of Princess Chloe by the Duke of Briar was not history yet. It was not recorded in any tree or available in any fruit where my mind could sop it up like a sponge. Therefore, I didn’t care.
High Priestess Grimmoix had been quite jolly for days. She was in such a good mood that she even allotted me double helpings of fruit. She did not show up very often anymore. As one of the new regent’s top advisors, her duties kept her inside the castle more than the cathedral.
My last meal had been hours ago. Now I was growing restless. It was past my usual suppertime. My stomach ached. The thousands of factoids crammed in my head were starting to jumble together. Behind it all I had the strange sense that something was wrong. I longed for the next meal. It would take my mind off those nagging feelings.
There was a rattling at the door. I scrambled over to snag the plate of fruit. To my dismay, it did not slide through the door slot immediately. Instead, I heard voices quibbling outside.
“Are you sure this is the right stuff?” asked the usual guard. “These plums have too much color.”
“Of course it’s the right stuff,” came the chirpy, feminine answer. “Don’t believe me? Try them yourself.”
“No, thanks,” said the guard. “Maybe I should wait for the high priestess to inspect them first.”
“She isn’t due back from the castle for hours,” said the pleasant female voice. “If you wait much longer, the prisoner will become unruly. Cognites have to be fed every four hours without fail.”
“I suppose,” said the guard.
The slot opened and a tray of fresh fruit slid through. I dove into it immediately. The stuff had become my lifeblood.
The first thing I downed was a juicy orange. Its flavor was very sweet, much better than some of the other fruit I’d had lately. It did not jolt me with knowledge as quickly as I was used to. Instead, it delivered a slow a narrative with just a few images. It told of a mythical race of beings called humans and their supposed habits in a parallel world.
Hu-man. I rolled the word around in my head. It felt familiar. Hadn’t I been called that before? I could almost hear the word being uttered by someone in a scornful tone, like it was an insult.
“I did not think hu-mans ever came to Faylinn.”
It was there, a solid piece of my own memory. Somebody had said that to me in the past. Then that meant—
“I am a human,” I said softly.
“Did you say something?” the guard outside asked.
“No, Sir,” I said quickly. I did not know what prompted me to lie. It simply felt like the right thing to do.
The plums looked particularly delicious. I bit into one of the rosy purple fruits and was treated to a tutorial on the different kinds of Fay magic.
Another wave of memory hit me. Somehow I already knew about the Enchanters, Channelers, Guardians and Master Casters before the plum told me. When it got to a part about magic and source crystals, I studied the heavy red stone around my neck. So that’s what it was. Funny, it didn’t make me feel powerful like the knowledge in the plum claimed it should.
I took a break before eating anything else. A feeling of panic was growing inside me. Something was not quite right. It was like having one of those dreams where I was out in public and suddenly realized I wasn’t wearing any clothes.
Rattled, but curious, I opted to keep eating. I took a moist green olive from the platter.
“The Slaugh language is little understood and hard to learn,” a tutor’s voice boomed in my head. Images of written Slaugh words formed before my eyes. Most were strange and unfamiliar. They meant little in writing, but when the narrator spoke them it roused something inside me. Here or there a particular word or phrase stood out as though I’d heard it before.
“One of the difficulties in learning the language is that many Slaugh words have dual meanings and must be taken in context to make any sense,” the voice said. “Even then it can be tricky. Take for instance the word ‘liebet.’”
An image of the Slaugh word liebet floated through the air. It was one of the few written ones that I recognized.
“This word can simultaneously mean ‘mine’ or ‘yours,” the voice continued. “When paired with the adverb ‘ivern’ the meaning becomes even more ambiguous since ‘ivern’ is also a dual definition word. It can mean both ‘forever’ and ‘never.’”
Liebet ivern.
I was bothered by the strong sensation that I’d seen the phrase written somewhere before. I racked my brains trying to figure it out.
Someone approached outside. There was only one thing left on the tray. It was a fig. I quickly snatched it up as the door opened and hid it in my palm.
“How is my star pupil?” asked High Priestess Grimmoix.
I stared at the old woman with deep-seated dislike. This confused me. I didn’t know why I should dislike the high priestess.
“Something wrong?” she asked, eying me suspiciously.
I shook my head.
The priestess didn’t look convinced. She grabbed my chin and peered into my eyes. The feel of her cold, knobby fingers made me squirm.
“Stop fidgeting!” she said, jerking my face even closer to her own. “Hmmm…there’s a little too much spark in your eyes. They must have waited too long to feed you. Nothing a second course won’t fix.” She let me go.
I shrank away and rubbed my chin.
High Priestess Grimmoix rapped on the cell door. The guard opened it to let her out. The priestess looked over her shoulder at me.
“I’m going to hand pick some special treats for you. Won’t that be nice?”
I caught a threatening tone in her voice. It made me uneasy. I nodded politely in hopes that would hasten her exit.
“Good,” she said with a shrewd smile. “Then you’ll be all ready for your induction tomorrow.”
The door shut. I waited until the footsteps faded down the corridor outside. My heart pounded. I didn’t know why I was so nervous. The news of my induction was a surprise. The priestess made it sound like a nice thing, but I wasn’t so sure any more. I wasn’t sure of anything.
I glanced at the fig in my palm. I did not feel as ravenous as usual. Lately my meals only left me hungry for more. Nevertheless, I had room for just one little fig. I lifted it to my mouth, then paused. This felt like something that I’d done before. Was my mind playing tricks on me?
“Only one way to find out,” I whispered under my breath. Then I popped the fig into my mouth.
They came for me the next day.
High Priestess Grimmoix seemed very pleased to find me waiting quietly with a blank look on my face.
“There’s a good girl,” the priestess said, patting me on the head like I was a favorite dog.
I was very quiet and very rigid. I followed the priestess obediently out of the cell and into the corridor where Judge Kesper and the clergy elders were waiting. The elders were comprised of three very old men and four stern-looking women.
“Miss Wren is a model student now,” the priestess said to Kesper. “She’ll make a fine addition to our Cognites.
“A productive member of our society,” Kesper said. Then he snorted. “About time! If only her grandfather had been so easy to subdue.”
“That’s the past,” said one of the clergy elders in a sepulchral voice. “The future is ours to control. The tests are promising. All we need now is the tablet.”
“Any leads?” one of the women asked.
“We’re close,” High Priestess Grimmoix said. “The duke has his best men on it.”
“ You mean you haven’t foreseen the exact location
?” the other woman asked.
The lines around High Priestess Grimmoix’s thin lips puckered. “The visions have been clouded lately. Perhaps all has been overshadowed by the events of this past week. The duke’s takeover has sent waves through the web of destiny.”
I inhaled sharply.
“Something the matter?” High Priestess Grimmoix asked.
“No,” I said. “It was just a hunger pain.”
“Not to worry,” she said, grabbing me by the arm. “There will be no more pain soon.”
“That sounds nice,” I said.
The others snickered.
We formed a line with Kesper in front, me and the high priestess right behind and the elders bringing up the rear. We walked through a hall with rows of cells just like the one I had been in. Guards were posted here and there between the cells. The guards gave nods of respect as the priestess walked by.
“Any word yet on the whereabouts of Othella and her daughters?” asked one of the lady elders.
“No, but it’s hardly a concern,” Kesper said. “They are considered to be in exile. If they do turn up, it’s the duke’s task to decide what to do with them. He’s quite put out with the whole mess, of course. He’d just as soon wash his hands of them and I say the kingdom would be better for it.”
We arrived at heavily guarded door. High Priestess Grimmoix gave a signal and one of the guards pressed a glyph on the wall. The door split down the middle and opened, allowing us to enter a high-ceilinged vault with a canal running through it. The canal split off into branching waterways that connected the vault to other rooms.
A small wooden boat bobbed at the edge of the canal. Kesper stepped aboard, then the priestess. She tugged my arm and I stepped gingerly onto the boat. The elders stepped in after me. The boat sped off under its own power as soon as the last elder climbed aboard.
The boat skimmed the water until the canal branched off into another room. The boat followed the stream to another passage where the water splashed down a wide set of stone stairs. We were jostled as the magically-enhanced boat bounced up the incline to a wide archway. On the other side of the archway was a cavernous expanse that appeared to have no end.
It was a magnificent chamber. The stream swelled to form a huge, slow moving river. The ceiling high above was a jumble of earth and tree roots with rays of sunlight piercing through in places. Many of the tree roots stretched down from the ceiling to the surface of the river, forming intricate spirals and webs along the way.
The boat slowed to match the pace of the river. It carried us silently through the maze of hanging roots.
Kesper’s beady eyes spun in their sockets. “It always humbles me to come here. It is truly a sight.”
“Water and earth,” the elder with the sepulchral voice said. “These are the roots of our great civilization.”
The raft carried us deep into the mass of roots. Some spots were gloomy as the inside of a cave; others were lit brightly from the shafts of light falling from high above. The raft drew up beside a mound of earth that was surrounded by a fortress of tightly intertwined roots. High Priestess Grimmoix snapped her fingers and some of the roots drew back, revealing a narrow entrance. We filed quickly through the opening. The priestess snapped her fingers again and the roots pulled themselves shut.
Inside was a glass bubble that acted like a greenhouse. It was warmed by a piercing sunbeam that shot straight down through the middle of the encircling roots. Inside the glass bubble were rows of young, potted trees. Five life-sized statues made of amber stood among the trees.
At first glance the amber statues were eerie. At second glance, they were sinister. Inside each one was a real person, frozen in the resin. They stared out with dead expressions. Two of them were young men. I spotted one young woman and a little girl as well. The last and most distant one was an old woman. They all wore the green cloth of the clergy and had bright red crystals around their necks. I couldn’t help but stop and stare at the one nearest to me. He was a boy my age with white hair and striking purple eyes.
A steady dripping echoed all throughout the greenhouse. The noise came from thin, silver needles that had been drilled into the resin statues. The needles pierced the skin of the bodies trapped inside, drawing thin trickles of blood. The blood ran down the needles into collecting troughs. From there the blood was channeled into glass tubes that fed into the soil of the surrounding trees.
“Ah, Cognites,” Kesper said with mock admiration. “The best of pupils.”
“How proud they’d be to know such a celebrity is joining them,” High Priestess Grimmoix said, patting me on the back.
“Do you plan to donate her memories to the Wren family tree?” Kesper asked.
“No,” Priestess Grimmoix said with conviction. “She is an anomaly. It is better that she be forgotten. As far as history is concerned, Alberich was the last true Wren. His demise should continue to serve as a warning to others who would turn against us.”
My lips twitched ever so slightly. The priestess caught the movement out of the corner of her eye. She frowned.
“Get her into the resin immediately,” the priestess said. “The sooner we get this over with, the better.”
One of the male elders grabbed my arm and took me to a ladder that led up to a wooden platform. Beside the platform was a huge vat of sticky, sweet-smelling resin.
“Climb,” the elder instructed.
I took a step up the ladder. The elder followed me.
The others stood beside the resin vat with excited expressions on their faces. The only exception was High Priestess Grimmoix. She watched my movements like a hawk.
Something fell out of my robe and bounced down the ladder. The elder behind me picked the thing up and stared in confusion.
“An orange,” he said. “Where did this come from?”
High Priestess Grimmoix’s face contorted to a snarl of rage. “GRAB HER!”
I hurried up to the top of the platform. Heart racing, I pulled out other fruits that I’d stashed in my robe. It was all from the carefully picked last meal that High Priestess Grimmoix had sent in for me. I used the uneaten fruit as ammunition, pelting it at the elder. It slowed him down enough for me to gain footing at the top of the platform.
“GET HER! GET HER!” the priestess shouted.
Magic spells flew my way. I deflected them with a barrier, but just barely. My magic was terribly weak. Then I remembered the red crystal I was wearing. I ripped the thing off and tried my magic again. This time, I was able to create a barrier strong enough to knock the elder off the ladder and ward off two pillars of ice that the others cast at me.
Sweat poured down my face. I was getting a workout after wasting away in the cell for weeks. I did not slow down though, not even for a second. Revenge kept me going. Ever since tasting the fig and re-living my family’s history, all my memories had come back. I’d realized what High Priestess Grimmoix and Kesper were trying to do to me.
I had played their fool, waiting for the right moment to retaliate. Now, standing next to the vat of sticky resin, I saw my chance.
High Priestess Grimmoix used magic to try to knock me off the platform. I kept my place by pushing back with my own magic.
“How is she doing that?” one of the elders shouted to the priestess.
“She hasn’t been eating the fruit!” Priestess Grimmoix yelled “And she’s removed her dampening crystal! I told you we should start embedding them in their foreheads!”
“Why didn’t you foresee this?” shrieked one of the woman elders.
“I told you—” the priestess said, huffing, “—the visions have been clouded!”
Their squabbling gave me a few seconds to recover some of my energy. I’d need every ounce of it for what I was planning.
“USE YOUR WINGS!” Kesper shouted at the others.
High Priestess Grimmoix and the elders just stared at him.
Kesper gaped back, dumbfounded. “You mean none of you can fly?”
“You can’t either!” Nuckelvee snapped.
This was welcome news to me, although I’d always suspected as much. It took a special sort of magic to be able to conjure wings. No Fay who had given their heart over to bitterness or greed could hope to fly.
The platform gave an ominous creak. I was drenched in my own sweat. My hands trembled. I only had one chance to get this right.
There came a loud snapping noise. The platform buckled and smashed into the vat of resin. I jumped down to safety as the vat started to tip. With one last burst of magical energy, I gave the vat a hard push. The amber resin spilled over the elders below.
By the time they realized what was upon them it was too late. A few unlucky elders were coated head to toe. Most were stuck up to their chests.
Only Kesper’s head remained free of the resin. The rest of his body was trapped in a round, gooey glob of the stuff.
There was no time to celebrate. I ran towards the boat. I wished there was some way to help the Cognites who were trapped like statues, but I didn’t know how. I’d just have to send help if I made it out. Even then I couldn’t be sure I had any allies left in the castle.
It had all gone so wrong. I hated myself for falling into the priestess’s stupid trap. Maybe if I’d had my wits, I could have stopped the duke’s takeover. Now it was too late.
I came to the root-sealed wall outside the greenhouse. I pushed against the roots but they didn’t budge. I tried snapping my fingers as High Priestess Grimmoix had done, but the entrance remained closed.
“You’re doing it wrong,” said a menacing voice.
Shocked, I spun around. There stood High Priestess Grimmoix. Somehow she’d escaped the resin spill. There wasn’t a drop on her. She looked wild. All her wiry gray hair had come loose from her head scarf. It stuck up like damaged feathers over her pointy ears. Her lips were drawn back, making her thin, beakish nose stand out even more.
“You think you’re so special,” the priestess said. “You’re trash, do you hear me? TRASH! Nobody in your family ever deserved the power they had. Not your grandfather, not you, not any of them!”
The Flute Keeper's Promise (The Flute Keeper Saga) Page 15