The Bard

Skywater, the capital of Luradia. The city was an absolute marvel, climbing above the cloudline of the Titan’s Crown of the Yari mountains. Playing here alone was an honor, let alone for the Council of Peace. I would make more from this show than most Bards made in a year.

The thunderwood palace stood at the peak of the mountain, surrounded by the other smaller patches of towns, ice crawling over most of the paths. Large blue bonfires kept the roads passable, but overall the city was as cold as rumored. Elemancers, Beastfolk, Umifolk, humans, and nearly every other race walked the ancient paths. Each of them carried scrolls, leatherwork, baked food, Source Steel, or mining tools as the only sign of their trades.

I stopped at the gates, looking back only once to gaze upon the sun glittering upon the clouds, the base of the mountain hidden below its depths. I brushed my locked curled hair back and looked up. Squinting against the setting sun, I saw the network of ice bridges disappearing into the distance toward one of the other peaks of the Titan’s Crown.

“Gunehey,” called Tepesh, our troupe leader, “Don’t keep the King waiting.”

His breath fogged with every word, forming instant ice crystals in his black beard that had its fair share of gray. He stood at the top of the steps as guards helped the rest of our troupe unload our wagons, his Story Marks writhing upon the inch of exposed skin on his neck.

Gods, it was cold. I shivered, wishing I could grow a beard like him. But I knew I would be warm tonight. My curves, dark curly hair, and gray eyes rimmed with green never failed to draw someone to warm my bed for me.

Giving him my best smile, I swept into a bow upon the stone steps of the thunderwood palace. I even managed not to slip on the ice. My instrument pack was nearly over-balanced as I dipped, the cello within it large but thankfully light.

“My apologies. It’s not often I climb high as the heavens,” I said, adjusting the straps of my pack. Tepesh grunted, his eyes trailing over the pick and orange of the clouds reflected in the sun as it reached the western sky.

“True, but you’ll never see it again if we never get invited back because you’re late. As usual.”

“You wound me, good sir. I’ve never been late in my entire life,” I lied dryly, passing him with a sly grin. He caught up to me, blowing into his hands and rubbing them together.

“It's a known fact you’d end up in the Abyss because you missed your boat to the Far Shore,” he deadpanned, shoving his hands into his pockets. We both sighed in relief as we crossed the threshold. The air immediately warmed with plentiful fires standing sentry next to the floor-to-ceiling windows stained in pictures of the great battles of history.

“Facts can be hurtful,” I replied, gazing upward into the high ceilings. We made our way through the relative chaos of the rest of the troupe preparing to perform, going straight to the throne room.

“The Saga Troup here to see you, sire,” announced one of the guards at the doorway, barring us from going further. There was muttered conversation on the other side before the doors opened, and we were ushered inside.

I’ve seen many corners of this country, each more beautiful than the last. The throne room passed them all with ease.

Veins of thunderwood with wove an easy artwork across the ceiling, which otherwise was stained glass. It depicted the Other of the Ethereal forests, with all the known Raito kings that walked among them. One of them, a cross between a fox and a wolf with wings and horns, stood near the center. I’d seen paintings of him before, and he had always been my favorite. He’d always been my favorite.

The symbols of all the Gods made a circle at the apex, casting lights of many colors throughout the room, while natural light flowed in through other windows.

Several people sat at the council table, high-backed chairs crowned with the flame encased in ice. Each one carried an insignia that resembled their region. My eyes lingered on the King and Queen, who both sat at the head, Marks lining their necks.

So it is true, I thought as I counted their Marks, They are blessed by all the Gods. All of them except Death, at least.

“Thank you for coming,” boomed the King, his voice surprisingly strong coming from his withered body, “The Blue Moon Festival wouldn’t be the same without some entertainment.”

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“Of course, Your Majesty,” Tepesh said, bowing deeply. I fumbled after him, remembering to bow a fraction too late.

“Rise,” said the King, and we did. He didn’t seem to notice my momentary lapse of manners, however, I saw two of his Council did.

A female Elemancer with white hair and black skin scowled at me, along with a human man sitting next to her. The man was built like a bear, thick white hair and beard covering most of his face. The man had glittering armor, though he and the Elemancer both wore matching cloaks of steel gray. A winged black horse was stitched into each one.

“I realize the festival isn’t meant to start until sundown,” said a man with a fox-like face further down the table, his tone easy and relaxed, “But may we have a taste of your talent before you settle in? I apologize if this seems rude, but I’ve heard so much about your troupe.”

“I would gladly, Councilman,” said Tepesh, nodding his head deferentially, “But I have not yet unpacked my lute–”

“I have my cello,” I said before thinking better of it. Every head turned toward me, including Tepesh’s. Gods, I was going to hear it later. The Elemancer woman’s eyes narrowed a bit further on me, but she relaxed as her companion leaned over to whisper in her ear.

“Wonderful,” said the foxlike Councilman, “Please showcase your talents for us Miss…” he said, trailing off, looking at me expectantly.

“Genehey. But please call me Gunny ” I replied, giving my Saga Name as I started to unpack my cello, “Does my Lord have a request?”

Laying my cello gently on the polished stone floor, I pulled out a small stand with wheels at the bottom, making the cello the perfect height for standing and playing. Having that engineer in Gear’s End design and build it had cost a fortune, but I think it was well worth the result. Curved metal wove delicately, with plates sticking out like enlarged flower petals.

“Yes, actually,” said the Councilman, perking his ears as he smiled, “Do you have the Story Mark of Stonefeathers?”

“Any Bard worthy of the Writer does, Councilman,” I replied, drawing rune resin along my bow. Finally, I began to shrug off my coat, revealing the network of Story Marks upon my skin. Whispering in Elder speech, I coaxed the Mark of a feather to the wide plane on my shoulder blade.

Pulling in a deep breath, I tested a few notes on my cello, grinning when I heard it was still in tune. Finally, I lifted my eyes the the Council of Peace and began to sing.

As I did, the feather shifted on my skin, becoming the figure of a woman who shifted quickly into a bird. Then came the man, a hunter who shot her with his arrow. And so the song turned sweeter, the melody coming from me as easy as breathing. I sang the legend of how they fell in love, the ink shifting on my sing at the beckoning of my voice. It was an old story, but an epic one of love, sacrifice, and rebirth.

The room was silent, even the Elemancer’s eyes going distant with the story. My voice echoed in the large space, weaving the tale layer by layer, until it reached its happy end. I eventually closed my eyes, seeing the story in my head as if I had been there myself.

I tried to make the others see it as well. I wasn’t the most religious person in the world, but I always believed in the Writer. In my mind, nothing was more powerful than a compelling story.

And then the final notes rang out, the others blinking as if awakening from a dream.

Meeting the Elemancer woman’s eyes, I smiled.

The Council of Peace applauded, some more than others. The King and Queen even stood. I turned to Tepesh, seeing pride in his eyes.

“Excellent!” cried the Queen as she clapped, “If this is a taste of your troupe, sir, then we eagerly await the festivities tonight!”

“Indeed,” said the Elemancer woman, and the man next to her nodded. Tepesh swept into a humble bow, yanking me with him before my mouth got away from me again.

“Majesties! Ladies! Gentlemen!” he said, lifting only his head, “I promise you will not be disappointed.”

*******

“Well done everyone!” Tepesh boomed, opening his arms wide and holding up his mug of Skywater ale. Cheering, the rest of the Saga troupe raised their mugs in unison. It was late into the night, and we all sat together in the guest halls of the castle, which all made a circle around the huge hearth in the center. Barrels of ale were everywhere as the troupe celebrated. The food was hot, the ale was cold, and the laughs were hearty.

Most of us were either tap-hackled, or well on our way there. The edges of the room blurred around me, a pleasant warmth in my veins. I listened as several of the troupe told of their best performances tonight, some even singing.

Yes, many of the townspeople had gone to bed, but our party was just beginning. I looked at the flames, reveling in this feeling. Gods, I loved being a Bard. The Writer had blessed me immeasurably.

But eventually, the ale hit bottom for me, and I stepped away from my chosen family to relieve myself. The halls of the castle got ever quieter as I walked them, looking for the lavatory.

A chill went up my spine.

I stopped in my tracks, looking around. Something was off. And that’s when it hit me. There were no guards. Not even one.

A rough clasped around my mouth, stifling my scream. I bucked, trying to throw the man off, but it was useless. His arm was around my neck then, my airway abruptly cut off.

“The changing of the guard has come. Thank you in advance for your service,” said the man as he chuckled, his voice a crazed whisper. His breath was sour as he leaned into my ear.

My consciousness wavered, but not before I spotted the winged horse tattooed on his hand in black ink.

That was the last thing I saw before the world went black.