34.5 Fic: Tidesong
“Stick around, why don’t you? Every party needs a bard.”
Alejandro’s tone was nonchalant, but fooled the wizard beside him not at all. Julius glanced aside, made silent note of the stubborn set in the genasi’s jaw, then looked back at the troubadour, whose faint, everpresent smile remained steady as he considered the offer, looking into some middle distance over their heads.
For a bard, the man’s casting was peculiarly sorcerous. Julius would admit to a curiosity that merited further study.
His silence went on a moment longer than their impatient fighter could wait.
“Well? What do you say?”
Isaac tapped a half-closed fist against his chin, thinking.
This early in the morning, with the sun just starting to warm yellow instead of grey through the windows, the taproom was empty. Quiet. Their packs were at their feet, or slung over one shoulder. Rested, recovered, ready for whatever came next. It seemed to make sense they’d go on together. Everyone here wanted to travel. Everyone here had been instrumental in getting them this far.
Is it so difficult a choice?
“Let’s table your generous offer for the moment,” he said, speaking at last, lowering his hand. “I’d like to tell you all a story first.”
“I won’t say no to that!” this from the joydancer, who plopped herself into a chair sized for humans and swung her feet in the air, resting her chin on woven fingers, waiting. Silva took a seat beside her. The half-elf fit the chair better, but as Rogue settled at her feet, her expression watching the bard was scrutinizing.
Julius slipped sideways into the chair opposite them. Alejandro shrugged, but remained standing. So did their storyteller, settling back on his heels.
"My story begins oh, about half a year ago.” His voice was calm, lyrical, thrown not at all by their undivided attention or the size of the empty room.
“On a sunny morning, under a clear, blue sky, I woke up with a song in my head."
Kit smiled, "which one?"
"A new song. Beautiful. The same that I sing every day at high tide."
Her smile faltered. And no wonder. The bard singing on his watch was not unexpected, but the peculiarities of his performance had been as unsettling as his inability to repeat it.
“Your song was different yesterday,” Julius pointed out, half-wishing he had pen and parchment ready.
“A different verse. It’s rather long, you see. I haven’t heard the whole yet, myself.”
Interesting. How many verses, do you think?
Alejandro’s frown was making wrinkles in his brow. He probably had a theory no happier than the one assembling in the back of his own mind.
"On that morning," Isaac continued, "I woke up on the sand, and, truth be told, I was happy to wake up at all.
"All around me was timber and canvas. Flotsam strewn like garland across the shore. All that was left of the ship I'd boarded five days before.
"The storm came on swift. It's lashing gales overtook the gulls, and sent them flailing. It filled the sails and sent the deck listing, such that all were obliged to hold on or go slipping into the churning water.
"This I saw only in a flash of lightning. The very same which split the mast as well as any woodsman's axe. Its fall overturned the ship, the deck slipped from my feet and when I took breath to shout, water filled my lungs.
"Drowning only takes a moment," he continued, calm in the face of their sympathetic horror. "Long enough to make a wish, or a prayer, but not to compose or address it.
"I dreamed I drifted down to a depth that should have crushed my bones. I dreamed I breathed the sea like it was air, I dreamed I was not the only one dreaming.
“Through water so green it was nearly black, I felt limbs of water and an eyeless gaze reaching out. My mind opened like a book, flipping understanding and memory like pages.
“A great fear and covetous loathing of all things that walk in the sun passed through me. I should have been afraid, but it was gentle, paralytic.
“My audience was alien, hateful, and wordless. But it had a request. An offer.” For the first time since they’d met, his smile faltered.
Kit saved him from the silence. “What did it want?”
He shrugged in a gesture that showed his open palms. His eyes were untouched by the hapless smile.
“What does anyone want of a bard with no instrument? To tell it a story, sing it a song.”
“And in exchange?” Alejandro, even-toned, frowning over crossed arms.
“I got to wake up on a beach, under the blue sky and the warm sun.”
“And when the song ends?” Incredulous, chastising.
Give the man an inch, amor. Anyone would have agreed.
Isaac shrugged, but his smile was peaceful. “Every song ends.”
Alejandro was opening his mouth with a flash in his eyes that preambled a curse. Julius cut him off.
“Your spell, before,” he said, drawing a sharp glance from the fighter, “the pirate.”
Isaac met his gaze, level. The brigand had been giving Alejandro a run for his money, big as a house and about as hard to topple. Then he staggered, through no blow that any of them could see. Grabbed for his throat, coughed. Fell over, seawater spilling from his nose and mouth.
“A tip, you could say.”
“Has the thing not heard of coins?” The fighter’s voice was black as smoke.
Isaac laughed. “Tradition is to toss a flower, if it hadn’t any money,” he said, smile creases compressing the corners of his eyes. “I’d have taken that. But I won’t deny the magic is more useful.”
“And when the song ends?” Alejandro repeated, “What then? It says ‘thank you sir for the performance, have a nice rest of your life’?”
“No, I don’t expect so.” The tone was unruffled, “Most likely, it will expect an encore. But the song is long, the sun is out, and I’ve no interest in tragedies.”
Alejandro’s call cut though the overwarm afternoon. "Harper!" "Present." The warlock's voice was as relaxed as his stride, keeping pace with Julius in the midrank. Alejandro glanced back from point. "Let's have a tune." "Any requests?" "Something upbeat. I'm bored to tears up here." He took a moment to think. Or to compose, maybe. Harper's songs were as likely to be improvised as repeated, or some combination of the two. It was hard to tell, sometimes. Their boots crunched on the road, cicadas chorusing from the treeline. Then Harper started humming, a lilting melody, its pace just a touch more at-ease than standard for a walking tune. "Honeybee~
She's so sugar-sweet to me" The lyrics were shaped by a fond smile. In the rearguard, Kit's cheeks were darkening to the colour of smouldering coals. "Blows me kisses from across the sea,
I'll be sugar if you'll be sweet,
Oh, honeybee" That's on me for not specifying. Love songs were all he sang lately, unless asked specifically for something else. Alejandro guessed he should be grateful, at least they were on the road again. The long, gravelly, patrolled-and-safe-and-therefore-boring-as-hell road back to the shore. It was noon, and the only clouds in the sky were fleecy shreds near the horizon, wobbly in the summer heat. So of course Julius was falling asleep on his feet. They were supposed to have been on the road for at least four hours already, long enough to pause for a midday break, spend the heat of the day in some shady spot, tackle the afternoon leg of the trip recharged. But he'd had to knock on Havenwood’s door twice that morning, frowning over the unlikeness of her sleeping in before he realized she wasn't in there. Then when he pounded on Harper's, he'd answered, after considerable delay, with his sandy hair an unmitigated tousle and his shirt on backwards. Alejandro had only sighed into his palm, pressing fingertips into forehead and waving off the breathless excuses with his other hand. "Ten minutes." he'd told him. The door shut on his face. When he came back downstairs to tell the others what was taking so long, Silva had glanced up toward their rooms with a flickered smile. Julius had laughed. "About time," the wizard smiled. He was already ready to go, backpack resting next to his chair, dressed in a lightweight shirt thin enough to see the thin outlines of his tattoos through the fabric. He'd tied half his braids up, probably for better airflow, and the beads woven into them reflected the morning light through the windows. His expression was faraway, long fingers absently tracing circles around the rim of his coffee cup. Sin esfuerzo hermoso. And yet, he'd thought to himself, pouring a second coffee since apparently they had time for it, you don't see me delaying the whole damn party for a morning tumble. When the two finally came down, twelve minutes later, he'd calmed his irritation. He’d gotten up and gotten dressed at dawn that morning as agreed, but he couldn’t say it had always been simple to do, especially early on, when waking to find his favourite wizard stealing the covers was a novel obstacle. He’d limited his reprimand to pointing out that they’d both forfeited their morning coffees. "Don't need it," Harper had smiled. Yeah, I bet. Havenwood had laughed, but agreed it was fair. The joydancer had absolutely skipped her way out the door. The two had made a game of pointing out random things by the roadside and improvising stories about them. Happy endings, all. The farmer’s mutt barking across a fence was a rescue, living his golden years in comfort, given meat and bones every night, sleeping on the feet of a master who knew just the right way to scratch his ears. The daisy growing under the road sign was just waiting to be picked by a callow youth who, from divination as worn as it was reliable, would determine that the object of his daydreams did, indeed, love him. Now, as Harper hummed a bridge fit for waltzing with backup vocals from the insects in the brush, he was still mostly come around to just being happy for them, but damn, if Harper had his head in the clouds before... "You two are just going to be insufferable for a while, aren't you?" “Yup!” From the backline, Havenwood’s grin was audible. He shook his head, but his smile wasn’t visible behind him. “If it’s vengeance, amor,” Julius chided, “it would be deserved.” He scoffed, only half-pretending insult. We were never this annoying, surely. Sure, he’d abused the presence of an audience to fluster Julius once or twice. Not his fault it was that satisfying to watch the composure crack. But he’d kept a lid on it. Mostly. He’d been able to converse about something other than Julius’ razor wit and shy smiles, at least, though now that he thought about it, the topics escaped him. Havenwood was pretty great, if not his type on multiple categories. He couldn’t blame Harper going for it, he’d just forgotten how tiring it can be to be around a new couple. Isaac was humming again. Some melody he didn’t recognize. It wound in lazy spirals to joyful heights, drifting slowly back down like a floating feather, wordless. A compromise. He’d take it.
Alejandro was awake before the sound registered, halfway out of his bedroll, grip tight on one blade's handle. A scream still ringing in his ears, rough and desperate. He had just found the other saber and was starting to stand when his brain caught up with his reflexes. That wasn't Kit's voice. Another nightmare. Across camp, Silva was clocking the same thing. She was also half-risen, one hand on the dagger she slept beside. Rogue was settled, but her ears were up. She let go the dagger and ran her hand through the wolf’s dense coat, dropping onto her back and shutting her eyes. He squinted toward the campfire, but of course their cleric wasn't there. She was kneeling beside Harper's cot, shaking his shoulder. He was protesting, shaking his head, unintelligible, still half asleep. He swept a glance across the perimeter. Clear, but something could be drawn by the sound. Kit's focus was tunnelled, he could walk up right behind her in full armour and he doubted she'd notice. He glanced down. Julius was awake, too. Concern making creases around his inkwell eyes. He looked askance when he started to stand up. "Covering watch for a minute," he muttered, "Go back to sleep." He took up post by the fire, drawing not so much as a glance from Havenwood. He kept his back to them, out of respect for Harper's dignity as much as anything else. But their voices carried. “It was only a dream, Kit. I’m awake now.” Soft, impossibly calm. He couldn’t hear what Havenwood said back, but Harper’s response was a chuckle. He tightened his jaw. Politely ignored the whispered endearments barely louder than the crackle of the campfire before him. Looked up when Harper approached, taking a seat by the fireside. “Sorry to wake you.” Alejandro studied his face. Placid, as always. Politely contrite, but unhaunted. “Don’t worry about it, I was on second watch anyway.” “I’ll take it over, if you don’t mind.” Alejandro raised a brow. He didn’t blame the man not wanting to re-enter dreamland just yet, but he’d never admitted such reluctance before. Isaac smiled, reading his face, apologetic. “It’ll be high tide soon.” Oh. There was no need to ask how he knew. That thing in his head told him. Gods forbid it let the man get a night’s sleep. Inhabit his own mind for a full twenty-four hours, for once. “I’ll keep you company.” “If you like.” It had the cadence of thank you, even if he didn’t say it. Across the camp, Havenwood was settling back into her bedroll. Tossed, turned, then slept on top of it instead. He guessed it was pretty warm out. Everyone wearing armour had doffed it with sighs of audible relief when he called the halt at sundown. Julius had upended his waterskin over his shoulders like he half expected it to steam. But the heat made rest easy, on top of the day’s hard walking. Behind him, Julius was already snoring again. Silva’s breathing was deep and easy, Rogue’s paws twitched with dreams of rabbits. Havenwood was on her back, staring up at the clouded sky. Alejandro was scanning the perimeter, estimating when he should start waking people, when Isaac started to sing. He didn’t want to look, but it was reflexive. Harper’s face was tilted upward, looking at the new moon with eyes faded as pale as seafoam. One arm hung slack at his side, the other propped loosely on his knee. His song was wordless vocals drawn from his throat by an invisible line. Its beginning was a lower rumble than a chest that narrow should have been able to produce, rolling like sea billows, flowing like waves, rocking like a cradle. Loud and soft, it filled the air, heavy. His voice, his tongue, but not his lyrics.
“Okay, that’s it, I have had it to here with your defeatist bullshit!” Alejandro’s voice crescendoed into a shout that shook the afternoon air, but not the bard’s patient expression. There was no denying the man looked awful. Already fair, he’d begun bordering on the pallor of bone. The summer air had all of them dressed down as much as feasible, but cloak, sleeves and armour couldn’t seem to shield Isaac from his hadal chill. And now he wasn’t sleeping.
Silva shook his shoulder, and he blinked through slumber’s confusion until her face came into focus. “Your watch.” He nodded, stifling a yawn. Tried to get up, couldn’t, removed the heavy arm of a snoring warrior from his chest, tried again, and extracted himself from the pleasant warmth of a well-worn bedroll. He fished a book out of his pack before heading to the fireside where Silva was already doffing her armour, eyeing her own bedroll across the clearing. “Quiet night, no visitors,” she briefed as he took a seat. He nodded. “Sleep well.” “Thanks, I will. Oh,” her volume lowered, private. “Isaac’s awake, by the way.” Julius followed her glance to where Isaac was lying, eyes closed, hands folded loosely across his stomach, breathing evenly. But if Silva said he was awake, she was probably right. Pretending, then, or counting sheep? “Noted.” She yawned, stretched, snapped her fingers and tapped her hip with her palm. Rogue stood up from where she’d been lying next to the fire, ears erect, wagged her tail. Silva led her to the bedroll, and the two settled themselves while Julius found his place and slipped the bookmark into a pocket. He was two hours into watch and four chapters into his book when Isaac exhaled a long sigh and sat up, looking at him with an arm over his bended knee. He looked back, waited. “May I join you?” The smile was late forming, and the firelight was casting deep shadows under his too-large eyes. Julius nodded. Isaac took up a seat on a stone, composed again. “What are you reading?” Julius got the bookmark back out of its pocket. Isaac was talented at many things, but silence was not among them. “Arcane theory. You haven’t slept?” He shook his head, “Not for want of trying, I assure you. But who can complain on a night like this?” He leaned backward, and Julius followed his gaze into the vaulted sky above. Stars peeked through the scattered clouds like glittering diamonds through clouds blown on the same breeze that shivered the forest canopy around them. “Another tip?” “I like to think of it that way.”
“You didn’t wanna die,” Alejandro was continuing, “I get that – we all get that. No one’s blaming you for taking an out then, but why in all the gods names won’t you even look for one now? You’re just going to sit down and take this? This isn’t life.” “Amor, that’s not-” “It’s not what, Julius? Not fair? I agree.” The fighter’s glare wasn’t for him, but it stung all the same. “Okay, okay okay,” Kit’s voice cut off whatever litany Alejandro had prepared, “Let’s all just take a breath! We’re friends here, aren’t we? Isaac.” Fondness, admiration even, when he met her gaze. Her answering smile was creased with concern that knitted her brows together. “We’re all worried about you. You know it’s okay if you’re not happy, right?” “Of course, dear one.” He looked up to include the rest of them, “Thank you for worrying, all of you, but it is needless. If I could, I’d like to address my charges.” The inflection was tongue-in-cheek, but no one was laughing. At least he understood he was on trial. Alejandro glared through a nod. “Alejandro Sanchez, someday children will tell your tales and dream of growing up to be just like you.” The fighter blinked, startled. Julius attempted to hide a smile. Trust a bard to change the tide. “Your sense of justice is as commendable as your courage,” Isaac continued, “but I respectfully disagree with your conclusion.” Beside her, his hand found Kit’s shoulder. She reached up to hold it, but her face was that of someone who has heard a story before. “For all my faults, I am not a man given to exaggeration, yet I would hazard that not only is this a life, but a good one. I do not measure its worth in days. I want for nothing.” “I admire your stoicism,” Alejandro's sarcasm was as audible as it was unbecoming, “But your not wanting anything is exactly the issue. I won’t have you stand there and lie to my face that you’re happy freezing to death in the middle of summer. You’re alive, sure, but there’s more, man, don’t you get that?” “What more could I possibly ask for?” Julius frowned, but if Isaac’s smile was a mask, it was impenetrable. Isaac’s hand was relaxed, his thumb brushing absently across Kit’s fingers. Alejandro had all the tension in the space coiled in his shoulders. “Time, man! This thing is going to kill you, you really think it’s going to let you get old first?” “No, probably not.” Kit’s hand tightened over his. “So do something about it!” “What would you have me do? Give up song for a throat raw from screaming into an unhearing night? Trade music for fingers broken to splinters from scraping at the ceiling of a coffin under the weight of the deep blue sea?” His voice was uncannily even, considered, but Kit shrank into him, drawing his glance. He checked himself. “We’re all going to die sooner or later,” he said, gentler. “If my time is short, I think I’d rather spend it singing.” “Let’s have a song, then.” All eyes snapped to the ranger. Silva was leaning back on her heels, arms folded. “What? Neither of you are going to get anywhere with this, and we all know it. You’re upsetting the Joydancer for gods’ sake.” “I’ll be okay, Silva.” Kit’s smile was uneven and unconvincing, but present. She stepped away from the pale warlock. “I’d like to hear a song, too.” Alejandro shook his head, stormed his way to take point. “Anything specific, Silva?” “Rusalka.” The ranger’s voice was a dare. The title was unfamiliar to Julius, but the bard laughed when he heard it. “Touché.” “Unless you still don’t do tragedies.” “I don’t,” bright, unbothered, already calling up the ethereal music that required no instruments, “Rusalka is a love song.” Silva raised a dubious brow, but took up position on the flank, Rogue trotting at her side. Julius fell in step with Isaac as he began, clear voice an even tempo.
Alejandro’s call cut though the overwarm afternoon. "Harper!" "Present." The warlock's voice was as relaxed as his stride, keeping pace with Julius in the midrank. Alejandro glanced back from point. "Let's have a tune." "Any requests?" "Something upbeat. I'm bored to tears up here." He took a moment to think. Or to compose, maybe. Harper's songs were as likely to be improvised as repeated, or some combination of the two. It was hard to tell, sometimes. Their boots crunched on the road, cicadas chorusing from the treeline. Then Harper started humming, a lilting melody, its pace just a touch more at-ease than standard for a walking tune. "Honeybee~
She's so sugar-sweet to me" The lyrics were shaped by a fond smile. In the rearguard, Kit's cheeks were darkening to the colour of smouldering coals. "Blows me kisses from across the sea,
I'll be sugar if you'll be sweet,
Oh, honeybee" That's on me for not specifying. Love songs were all he sang lately, unless asked specifically for something else. Alejandro guessed he should be grateful, at least they were on the road again. The long, gravelly, patrolled-and-safe-and-therefore-boring-as-hell road back to the shore. It was noon, and the only clouds in the sky were fleecy shreds near the horizon, wobbly in the summer heat. So of course Julius was falling asleep on his feet. They were supposed to have been on the road for at least four hours already, long enough to pause for a midday break, spend the heat of the day in some shady spot, tackle the afternoon leg of the trip recharged. But he'd had to knock on Havenwood’s door twice that morning, frowning over the unlikeness of her sleeping in before he realized she wasn't in there. Then when he pounded on Harper's, he'd answered, after considerable delay, with his sandy hair an unmitigated tousle and his shirt on backwards. Alejandro had only sighed into his palm, pressing fingertips into forehead and waving off the breathless excuses with his other hand. "Ten minutes." he'd told him. The door shut on his face. When he came back downstairs to tell the others what was taking so long, Silva had glanced up toward their rooms with a flickered smile. Julius had laughed. "About time," the wizard smiled. He was already ready to go, backpack resting next to his chair, dressed in a lightweight shirt thin enough to see the thin outlines of his tattoos through the fabric. He'd tied half his braids up, probably for better airflow, and the beads woven into them reflected the morning light through the windows. His expression was faraway, long fingers absently tracing circles around the rim of his coffee cup. Sin esfuerzo hermoso. And yet, he'd thought to himself, pouring a second coffee since apparently they had time for it, you don't see me delaying the whole damn party for a morning tumble. When the two finally came down, twelve minutes later, he'd calmed his irritation. He’d gotten up and gotten dressed at dawn that morning as agreed, but he couldn’t say it had always been simple to do, especially early on, when waking to find his favourite wizard stealing the covers was a novel obstacle. He’d limited his reprimand to pointing out that they’d both forfeited their morning coffees. "Don't need it," Harper had smiled. Yeah, I bet. Havenwood had laughed, but agreed it was fair. The joydancer had absolutely skipped her way out the door. The two had made a game of pointing out random things by the roadside and improvising stories about them. Happy endings, all. The farmer’s mutt barking across a fence was a rescue, living his golden years in comfort, given meat and bones every night, sleeping on the feet of a master who knew just the right way to scratch his ears. The daisy growing under the road sign was just waiting to be picked by a callow youth who, from divination as worn as it was reliable, would determine that the object of his daydreams did, indeed, love him. Now, as Harper hummed a bridge fit for waltzing with backup vocals from the insects in the brush, he was still mostly come around to just being happy for them, but damn, if Harper had his head in the clouds before... "You two are just going to be insufferable for a while, aren't you?" “Yup!” From the backline, Havenwood’s grin was audible. He shook his head, but his smile wasn’t visible behind him. “If it’s vengeance, amor,” Julius chided, “it would be deserved.” He scoffed, only half-pretending insult. We were never this annoying, surely. Sure, he’d abused the presence of an audience to fluster Julius once or twice. Not his fault it was that satisfying to watch the composure crack. But he’d kept a lid on it. Mostly. He’d been able to converse about something other than Julius’ razor wit and shy smiles, at least, though now that he thought about it, the topics escaped him. Havenwood was pretty great, if not his type on multiple categories. He couldn’t blame Harper going for it, he’d just forgotten how tiring it can be to be around a new couple. Isaac was humming again. Some melody he didn’t recognize. It wound in lazy spirals to joyful heights, drifting slowly back down like a floating feather, wordless. A compromise. He’d take it.
Alejandro was awake before the sound registered, halfway out of his bedroll, grip tight on one blade's handle. A scream still ringing in his ears, rough and desperate. He had just found the other saber and was starting to stand when his brain caught up with his reflexes. That wasn't Kit's voice. Another nightmare. Across camp, Silva was clocking the same thing. She was also half-risen, one hand on the dagger she slept beside. Rogue was settled, but her ears were up. She let go the dagger and ran her hand through the wolf’s dense coat, dropping onto her back and shutting her eyes. He squinted toward the campfire, but of course their cleric wasn't there. She was kneeling beside Harper's cot, shaking his shoulder. He was protesting, shaking his head, unintelligible, still half asleep. He swept a glance across the perimeter. Clear, but something could be drawn by the sound. Kit's focus was tunnelled, he could walk up right behind her in full armour and he doubted she'd notice. He glanced down. Julius was awake, too. Concern making creases around his inkwell eyes. He looked askance when he started to stand up. "Covering watch for a minute," he muttered, "Go back to sleep." He took up post by the fire, drawing not so much as a glance from Havenwood. He kept his back to them, out of respect for Harper's dignity as much as anything else. But their voices carried. “It was only a dream, Kit. I’m awake now.” Soft, impossibly calm. He couldn’t hear what Havenwood said back, but Harper’s response was a chuckle. He tightened his jaw. Politely ignored the whispered endearments barely louder than the crackle of the campfire before him. Looked up when Harper approached, taking a seat by the fireside. “Sorry to wake you.” Alejandro studied his face. Placid, as always. Politely contrite, but unhaunted. “Don’t worry about it, I was on second watch anyway.” “I’ll take it over, if you don’t mind.” Alejandro raised a brow. He didn’t blame the man not wanting to re-enter dreamland just yet, but he’d never admitted such reluctance before. Isaac smiled, reading his face, apologetic. “It’ll be high tide soon.” Oh. There was no need to ask how he knew. That thing in his head told him. Gods forbid it let the man get a night’s sleep. Inhabit his own mind for a full twenty-four hours, for once. “I’ll keep you company.” “If you like.” It had the cadence of thank you, even if he didn’t say it. Across the camp, Havenwood was settling back into her bedroll. Tossed, turned, then slept on top of it instead. He guessed it was pretty warm out. Everyone wearing armour had doffed it with sighs of audible relief when he called the halt at sundown. Julius had upended his waterskin over his shoulders like he half expected it to steam. But the heat made rest easy, on top of the day’s hard walking. Behind him, Julius was already snoring again. Silva’s breathing was deep and easy, Rogue’s paws twitched with dreams of rabbits. Havenwood was on her back, staring up at the clouded sky. Alejandro was scanning the perimeter, estimating when he should start waking people, when Isaac started to sing. He didn’t want to look, but it was reflexive. Harper’s face was tilted upward, looking at the new moon with eyes faded as pale as seafoam. One arm hung slack at his side, the other propped loosely on his knee. His song was wordless vocals drawn from his throat by an invisible line. Its beginning was a lower rumble than a chest that narrow should have been able to produce, rolling like sea billows, flowing like waves, rocking like a cradle. Loud and soft, it filled the air, heavy. His voice, his tongue, but not his lyrics.
“Okay, that’s it, I have had it to here with your defeatist bullshit!” Alejandro’s voice crescendoed into a shout that shook the afternoon air, but not the bard’s patient expression. There was no denying the man looked awful. Already fair, he’d begun bordering on the pallor of bone. The summer air had all of them dressed down as much as feasible, but cloak, sleeves and armour couldn’t seem to shield Isaac from his hadal chill. And now he wasn’t sleeping.
Silva shook his shoulder, and he blinked through slumber’s confusion until her face came into focus. “Your watch.” He nodded, stifling a yawn. Tried to get up, couldn’t, removed the heavy arm of a snoring warrior from his chest, tried again, and extracted himself from the pleasant warmth of a well-worn bedroll. He fished a book out of his pack before heading to the fireside where Silva was already doffing her armour, eyeing her own bedroll across the clearing. “Quiet night, no visitors,” she briefed as he took a seat. He nodded. “Sleep well.” “Thanks, I will. Oh,” her volume lowered, private. “Isaac’s awake, by the way.” Julius followed her glance to where Isaac was lying, eyes closed, hands folded loosely across his stomach, breathing evenly. But if Silva said he was awake, she was probably right. Pretending, then, or counting sheep? “Noted.” She yawned, stretched, snapped her fingers and tapped her hip with her palm. Rogue stood up from where she’d been lying next to the fire, ears erect, wagged her tail. Silva led her to the bedroll, and the two settled themselves while Julius found his place and slipped the bookmark into a pocket. He was two hours into watch and four chapters into his book when Isaac exhaled a long sigh and sat up, looking at him with an arm over his bended knee. He looked back, waited. “May I join you?” The smile was late forming, and the firelight was casting deep shadows under his too-large eyes. Julius nodded. Isaac took up a seat on a stone, composed again. “What are you reading?” Julius got the bookmark back out of its pocket. Isaac was talented at many things, but silence was not among them. “Arcane theory. You haven’t slept?” He shook his head, “Not for want of trying, I assure you. But who can complain on a night like this?” He leaned backward, and Julius followed his gaze into the vaulted sky above. Stars peeked through the scattered clouds like glittering diamonds through clouds blown on the same breeze that shivered the forest canopy around them. “Another tip?” “I like to think of it that way.”
“You didn’t wanna die,” Alejandro was continuing, “I get that – we all get that. No one’s blaming you for taking an out then, but why in all the gods names won’t you even look for one now? You’re just going to sit down and take this? This isn’t life.” “Amor, that’s not-” “It’s not what, Julius? Not fair? I agree.” The fighter’s glare wasn’t for him, but it stung all the same. “Okay, okay okay,” Kit’s voice cut off whatever litany Alejandro had prepared, “Let’s all just take a breath! We’re friends here, aren’t we? Isaac.” Fondness, admiration even, when he met her gaze. Her answering smile was creased with concern that knitted her brows together. “We’re all worried about you. You know it’s okay if you’re not happy, right?” “Of course, dear one.” He looked up to include the rest of them, “Thank you for worrying, all of you, but it is needless. If I could, I’d like to address my charges.” The inflection was tongue-in-cheek, but no one was laughing. At least he understood he was on trial. Alejandro glared through a nod. “Alejandro Sanchez, someday children will tell your tales and dream of growing up to be just like you.” The fighter blinked, startled. Julius attempted to hide a smile. Trust a bard to change the tide. “Your sense of justice is as commendable as your courage,” Isaac continued, “but I respectfully disagree with your conclusion.” Beside her, his hand found Kit’s shoulder. She reached up to hold it, but her face was that of someone who has heard a story before. “For all my faults, I am not a man given to exaggeration, yet I would hazard that not only is this a life, but a good one. I do not measure its worth in days. I want for nothing.” “I admire your stoicism,” Alejandro's sarcasm was as audible as it was unbecoming, “But your not wanting anything is exactly the issue. I won’t have you stand there and lie to my face that you’re happy freezing to death in the middle of summer. You’re alive, sure, but there’s more, man, don’t you get that?” “What more could I possibly ask for?” Julius frowned, but if Isaac’s smile was a mask, it was impenetrable. Isaac’s hand was relaxed, his thumb brushing absently across Kit’s fingers. Alejandro had all the tension in the space coiled in his shoulders. “Time, man! This thing is going to kill you, you really think it’s going to let you get old first?” “No, probably not.” Kit’s hand tightened over his. “So do something about it!” “What would you have me do? Give up song for a throat raw from screaming into an unhearing night? Trade music for fingers broken to splinters from scraping at the ceiling of a coffin under the weight of the deep blue sea?” His voice was uncannily even, considered, but Kit shrank into him, drawing his glance. He checked himself. “We’re all going to die sooner or later,” he said, gentler. “If my time is short, I think I’d rather spend it singing.” “Let’s have a song, then.” All eyes snapped to the ranger. Silva was leaning back on her heels, arms folded. “What? Neither of you are going to get anywhere with this, and we all know it. You’re upsetting the Joydancer for gods’ sake.” “I’ll be okay, Silva.” Kit’s smile was uneven and unconvincing, but present. She stepped away from the pale warlock. “I’d like to hear a song, too.” Alejandro shook his head, stormed his way to take point. “Anything specific, Silva?” “Rusalka.” The ranger’s voice was a dare. The title was unfamiliar to Julius, but the bard laughed when he heard it. “Touché.” “Unless you still don’t do tragedies.” “I don’t,” bright, unbothered, already calling up the ethereal music that required no instruments, “Rusalka is a love song.” Silva raised a dubious brow, but took up position on the flank, Rogue trotting at her side. Julius fell in step with Isaac as he began, clear voice an even tempo.
“Rusalka, Rusalka your arms out of water
Your hair like an alien bloom
Dark-eyed Rusalka, your brow tressed in flowers
Pale in a liminal moon
And all that you are
is a star
on the water”
Julius cast him a sideways glance, but was more focused on the back of the fighter up front. Alejandro may have given up arguing for now, but there was no world in which he’d accepted defeat that easily. He could see the wheels turning, throwing off sparks. He’d spent most of breakfast interrogating Isaac for information on the creature he sang to, frustration growing as his questions bought only esoteric metaphor and calm dismissal.
Your hair like an alien bloom
Dark-eyed Rusalka, your brow tressed in flowers
Pale in a liminal moon
And all that you are
is a star
on the water”
“When first I went swimming, I heeded no warning
And dared breach your rippling pool,
As I lulled and lingered,
the ring slipped my finger
And drifted down the deepening cool,”
This is what you call a love song?
Julius glanced backward. Kit was humming along, swaying to the dreaming melody on light steps. She caught his eye and shrugged with a smile.
And dared breach your rippling pool,
As I lulled and lingered,
the ring slipped my finger
And drifted down the deepening cool,”
“And all
that I want
is to fall
in your shallows” “And now we are wed, the water our bed
And bank to bank property lay,
And you are my wild-eyed rusalka, my river bride
Drag me down, take me away, “And here we will lie,
you and I,
'neath the cold,
dark
sky
that I want
is to fall
in your shallows” “And now we are wed, the water our bed
And bank to bank property lay,
And you are my wild-eyed rusalka, my river bride
Drag me down, take me away, “And here we will lie,
you and I,
'neath the cold,
dark
sky
Cover image:
The Magic Brush
by
Zsolt Kosa