Chapter 121

The Harp Player

“Rak,” Connie spat the word. Femira saw her three companions all reach for their weapons. She did not call for Nyth, instead shooting them all curt looks. Mahel’s facial expression was difficult to read but he looked offended by Connie’s reaction.

“He’s clearly not going to harm us,” Femira chided them. She’d heard of rakmen before, many of the stories from Rubane and Athlin referenced them. Femira had seen enough stories come to life in the past year that she wasn’t phased by it.

Mahel though was making no show that he was an enemy. He certainly wasn’t a monster that was for sure. His ears were elongated, stretching back into a point similar to that of an Aeth. His facial features were sharp and pointed, overall, he reminded Femira of an Aeth more than anything else. His long thick hair was tied back with a red cloth.

“It appears the reputation of my rakmen kin does me a great disservice,” Mahel replied courteously. “This explains much,” he rubbed his chin in thought, “most humans I’ve met since I travelled to these lands have greeted me with swords in hand.”

“Did you kill them?” Connie asked.

“My blade found those that raised theirs with intent to spill my blood.”

“Nothing wrong with simply defending yourself,” Femira interjected, glaring at Connie.

“Where are you from?” Femira asked.

“Do you mean the land where I was born?” Mahel chuckled, “it holds a name and a people much different to when I was born there. Most recently, I travelled with a group of humans. They call themselves the Yarji.”

“Yarji don’t take passengers and they’ll soon as gut you as trade with ye,” Sleek commented.

“I’ve met a Yarji man before,” Femira retorted, “and I think the rumours of their hostility are greatly exaggerated.”

“I spent many months with a crew on one of their junkships,” Mahel explained, “it was an… interesting experience.”

Mahel fascinated Femira and she had more and more questions bubbling up to the surface. Where else had he travelled to? How does that harp work? What was he doing here? Why had he been watching them?

“So why are you here?” She decided to open here.

“I am searching for something,” he replied.

“What exactly?” Connie asked.

“A treasure,” he replied smoothly. “I won’t reveal much more than that to people I have just met. Especially when they still hold their hands upon their weapons.”

“We’re not here to cause trouble,” Femira replied hurriedly, and then gave an irritated nod to the others to release their weapons. “We really do just want a safe place to stay for the night.” And now all Femira wanted to do was to keep talking with Mahel.

“You are welcome at my fire,” Mahel gestured back to his camp. “The song will keep the draega at bay tonight.”

“You sure about that?” Femira asked, “I’ve been fighting ‘em a while now and I’ve not heard of using music against them.”

“The song is a gentle shield,” he chuckled, “it will not harm the draega but it whispers a spell and will keep this place a sanctuary.”

Femira didn’t trust it. Not that she thought Mahel was lying, he likely believed it, but she would still be ready to fight any draega that attacked the ship tonight. Although, she didn’t like the thought of Mahel being exposed and vulnerable on the beach. She wondered if she could convince him to spend the night on their ship. And—with greater challenge—convince Connie to let him.

They made their way over to Mahel’s camp. All of them were intrigued by his harp. It was an ornate thing; as tall as Femira and made from a bone white wood. She’d seen harps before—and even stolen one, along with a few other instruments, a few years back on a job. It looked much like any other harp, although there were black markings etched along the ashen frame. There were no runestones in sight which was interesting as Femira figured there was some runestone mechanism controlling it. The strings moved as if being plucked by invisible fingers.

“A self-playing harp,” Connie mused, “never heard of one of these before. Thing’d fetch a pretty penny.”

“Is it… living?” Sleek asked, his voice laden with hesitation.

“It is not alive,” Mahel replied, amused, “though I can see how one would think that. Be assured, I am playing it. It is simply a tool and holds no more mind than those daggers,” he nodded to Sleek and Cowbell’s belts. “Your sword though…” he looked at Femira’s belt where Nyth was in blade form. Mahel’s strikingly blue eyes met Femira’s with a small smile. “Well… perhaps.”

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Why does he have to be so gods-damned mysterious?! Mahel was clearly far more knowledgeable than she was if he was able to recognise nythilium as something more at a simple glance. Not even Landryn, Vestyr or any of the bloodshedders had known much about nythilium. So far she’d kept the fact that she could communicate with it to herself.

“So how does it work then?” Femira asked pointedly, walking close to the harp and peering at the strings. “I’m no musician but last I checked you have to be at least touching a harp to play it.”

“As I’ve already pointed out to your friend. You can wield a blade without touching it, can you not?” he replied coolly.

“So you’re a runewielder then.”

“Most of my kind are… although many will never get to hold a runestone.”

Femira pushed out a pulse of her edir, and felt the resonance of all the nearby stone and metal she could absorb. She also felt the presence of another edir which she guessed to be Mahel’s, connecting him to the harp. It was iron-tight, like a leash.

It reminded her of Garld’s edir. Practised, controlled. It made her wary. Mahel was not only far more knowledgeable than her, he also might be a stronger runewielder. She wondered if he was soulforged. She wanted to ask him, but that might open too many questions back on her.

“You’re not afraid of us,” Femira stated, “my companions tell me that pirates often hole up in these islands. A lone traveller might be wary of a group like ours.”

“Your friends speak truths, I have been here only a few weeks and already I have seen pirate ships taking refuge here. Many do not linger. Even the warships that pretend to be pirates are quick to leave this place. You do not look to be pirates… nor soldiers.”

“You’re very mysterious,” Femira admitted.

“As are you,” he shot back, “as I have already revealed, I have watched you fight the draega without fear nor fury.”

“I’ve some experience fighting them,” she shrugged, “although I wouldn’t want to take too many on my own. I can protect myself and my companions from a handful of them, any more than that and we’re running. How many can you take?”

“I have little desire to die upon the lands of another. I cannot fight the draega and so,” he gestured to the harp.

“Do you know where they’re coming from?” Femira asked.

“The draega? Not yet.”

“But you have a theory?” Femira pressed.

“Some knowledge must be guarded as you would a fragile flame,” Mahel answered cryptically. “Share its light only when you are certain the hands reaching for it will not extinguish it.”

So, he suspects but he’s not ready to tell anyone until he’s sure. Femira was getting used to the strange way that Mahel spoke.

“I plan to hunt them to their source,” Femira revealed.

“That is high aspiration. I will assume you know that the kind you have fought are mere underlings of a greater?”

“The alpha?”

“You could call it that. My kind—the rak—as you call us. We consider these alphas to be the true draega. The smaller ones are nought but pests.”

“Is there an alpha near these islands”

“I hope not,” Mahel admitted, “while I would wish to test the potency of my melody against such a creature… doing so with my life at the peril of its failure is… unappealing.”

“You said you were watching our ship,” Femira pressed, “why?”

“I watch all who pass through, as I have said. Pirates and soldiers alike have been moving through these islands.”

“How long have you been here?” Connie asked.

“I have answered your questions openly and honestly. But this is beginning to feel like an interrogation more than a conversation,” Mahel seemed more amused that offended as he spoke.

“You’re right,” Femira admitted, and then moved her hand in calming gesture to Connie. “You were here first and we arrived with weapons and threats. I’m sorry…” Femira faltered because she wanted to ask another question immediately after apologising for asking so many questions. “You’re obviously stealthy enough to avoid being seen by us. But you’ve exposed yourself now. Why?”

“Very few ships come close to these islands,” Mahel answered, “and those that stay overnight… well, you know what happens to them. Even fewer survive. None stay a second night. The draega come and they destroy and they feed, this is what they do… But you,” his eyes lingering on Femira’s, “you have rebuffed them night after night. Your ship moves between these islands. It makes me wonder… what is it that you seek here?”

“A trade then,” Connie offered. “We tell you why we’re here and you do the same.” Femira gave a Connie a hard look. Her hand twitched towards her blade although she wasn’t sure what she’d do if Connie told Mahel about Femira’s mission. Was bringing Connie in on what she was truly doing a huge mistake?

“I’ve already told you I’m searching for a treasure.”

“You must be fairly damn certain it’s here if you’ve been here long enough to make a habit of tracking passing ships,” Connie shot.

“I am… certain, that is.”

“Well then,” Connie grinned mischievously, “what is it?” Mahel didn’t respond. A moment passed, then another, the harp carrying on its soft tune. It was Connie that eventually relented.

“We’re hiding,” Connie admitted. “Reldoni warships caught sight of us and we’re carrying—”

“—something of great interest to them.” Femira cut her off. Mahel’s eyes once again moved to Femira’s hip where Nyth was belted.

“I seek an ancient ruin,” Mahel offered, accepting Femira’s deflection of their intent. “A tower to be precise, although it may no longer still be standing.” At that Connie barked out a bitter laugh.

“That fucking tower,” she spat, “you’re looking for the Limirian Tower.”

Both Sleek and Cowbell shifted uncomfortably. Mahel was taken aback by Connie’s response.

“You know of it?” he asked.

“Every man, woman and child in every port city in the fucking world knows of it. You won’t find it here, friend. Many fools have looked. And most of ‘em died. Word of advice, go back to the Yarji or wherever else and give up on that sham tower.”