Echoes

by Nathan Ravenwood

  “You sure about that?” Vann asked. “There's quite a few of them, Rorzan!”

  “I'm positive!” Rorzan said, his voice full of confidence. “I believe in all of you!”

  Vann inhaled a deep breath, then planted his feet, and skidded to a halt, holding his guitar in front of him. “Alright,” he muttered, turning to face their adversaries. “If you're sure.”

  Ansel stopped in his tracks, and held up his hand. His troops halted, many of them holding their instruments at the ready. Vann saw a lot of flutes and hunting horns like Ansel's, good for single, powerful ranged attacks.

  Ansel folded his arms and leered at Vann. “You've given us quite the run for our money, boy.”

  “I'm twenty-three!” Vann protested.

  “Seems you made a few friends along the way.” Ansel stared down Janaza, and the orc stared back, her slightly mad grin never wavering. Ansel backed down, turning his gaze on Arielle. “And kidnapped a lovely thing to boot.” Arielle muttered something caustic-sounding in elvish.

  “If Lord Branna sent you after me, he must want me dead,” Vann said, his fingers twitching towards the neck of the guitar.

  “Touch those strings and I'll have you cut down with magic missiles before you can loose a single note,” Ansel said, pointing at the instrument. “Don't think you can put one past me, Voiceless trash.”

  Vann felt his anger rising. “I am not trash,” he said defiantly. Janaza tensed next to him.

  Ansel grinned like a cat playing with a mouse and raised his hand. “Then prove it.”

  He snapped his fingers.

  As the soldiers raised their horns to blow magic missiles, Vann and Janaza reacted. They strummed an open chord rapidly and backpedalled. Janaza slapped him on the shoulder, then sprinted in one direction as he took off in the other. He felt the harmonic connection come alive between them as magic projectiles churned up the ground where they'd stood a moment before. Vann played the chords to sharpen the body of the guitar. If push came to shove...

  Two guards came after him, brandishing short swords. Vann let rip with a single power chord as Rorzan had taught him, the shockwave bowling one man over. The other one swung at Vann's head. He ducked, then drilled the guard in the gap in his armor at the waist with the blunt side of the guitar. The guard groaned in pain as Vann heard something crack from his blow. He spun as he'd seen Janaza do, and floored his attacker with a powerful backhand swing that clanged into his metal breastplate. Another pair of guards came at him from two sides, seeking to trap him between them. Vann caught one's swing on the body of his guitar, then realized that the second was poised to run him through.

  Then a bolt of lightning flashed through the space and struck the guard attacking him from behind. He danced a jig as electric current crackled through his body, and everyone in the clearing turned and stared.

  Arielle stood, breathing heavily, her body sheened in sweat. Wreathing her body was a crackling net of magical energy, that slowly resolved itself into a spiderweb of power lines around her. It looked like just that one attack had taken a lot out of her. But her diamond eyes burned with fury. It took a moment for Vann to realize that several guards were lying on the ground around her motionless, their bodies smoking.

  “I will not... be silent... ever again!” Arielle cried. She Sang a single, loud note, and swept her fingers over the magic lines around her. The loud trill of a flute sounded, blended with her Voice, and another massive lightning bolt shot across the clearing and smote his other attacker.

  “Hells yeah!” Rorzan cheered from above the battle. “Face the power of the Omnichord, you High Lord bootlickers! Hah!”

  But while his men had wavered in the face of Arielle's power, Ansel was made of sterner stuff. The Guard Captain turned his attention on the elf, blowing a note into his horn. The singular tone created a wave of concussive force that rippled across the chaos and slammed into Arielle, sending her flying backwards. She landed heavily with a cry of pain, rolling to a stop. Ansel pursued her, his club in hand.

  Vann moved, chasing after Ansel. Arielle rolled over, groaning, bleeding from a scratch on her forehead. As Ansel reached her, club raised to crush her skull, Vann barreled into him, both their instruments going in different directions. Rage suffused Vann's being as he slammed his fist into Ansel's face over and over again. “Stay away from her!”

  For all his bravado, though, Vann was a novice to brawling. Ansel simply pushed off the ground, rolling them over so he was in the dominant position, then cocked his meaty fist back and brought it down into Vann's face. Pain exploded through Vann's skull as his head was smashed against the hard ground over and over again. “Little... Voiceless... prick...” Ansel grunted.

  Then he looked up and scrambled away from Vann just as Janaza's bass whistled through the air where he'd been a moment before. The orc stood tall over Vann, her back to him. Her body and bass were streaked with blood. “Vann, you okay?” she asked.

  Vann slowly rolled over and got to his feet, his face aching like he'd been dropped off a mountain. “I think I'll live,” he groaned. “Arielle?”

  “Mmmfine,” the elf moaned.

  For all their hard fighting, they'd only felled eight of Ansel's crew. The remaining ten were regrouping as Ansel wiped blood and dirt from his face. “Alright,” the guard captain said. “Enough is enough!” He raised his hand, and his troops raised their horns to their lips. “This ends now!”

  “Rorzan, plan?” Vann asked.

  “Arielle,” the ghost said calmly.

  The elf played a single note on her omnichord, Harmonizing with Vann and Janaza. Vann felt power unlike anything he'd ever felt before flow into the harmonic connection. Arielle's magic felt vast, like a raging river held in check by a dam that could be opened to allow a little through or all of it at once. It was crystal clear, malleable, and mind-bogglingly strong.

  “Don't doubt yourself, Vann,” the elf said. A Song came to his mind from Arielle's vast arsenal.

  Ansel and his troops blew a single, low note on their horns, and a wave of force blasted out from them. At the same moment, Vann, Janaza, and Arielle played in harmony, a rapid-fire instrumental that conjured their own wave of power and met their attackers' head on. The two magical blasts met in the middle, coming together with a boom that echoed for a league around, bouncing around the mountains back to Briarhaven.

  Vann felt himself faltering, one missing note becoming another, and another, as the clashing magical energies began to creep back towards them. “I'm sorry!” Vann cried. “I can't...”

  “Don't try to control it, Vann!” Rorzan's voice came through over the screeching noise of magical blasts clashing. “Let the music be your master! Metal is as much a feeling as it is an art! Find the feeling, and you'll find the music!”

  The moment hung suspended in time, a singular instance that felt like an eternity. Vann turned inward, feeling as though he was floating in a dark void. Around him floated memories, feelings, thoughts. He saw his life as if it were a tapestry, from the elation of grasping magic for the first time, to the hot pain in his throat from the exercise gone wrong, the shame at having lost everything, the dullness of the everyday in his palace life, and finally, the sheer thrill of finding the power all over again, that singular, wondrous moment of power surging through him.

  And in that moment, he found something.

  When Vann touched it, he felt his whole body burn with power, power like he'd never known, power overwhelming. It felt like fire coursing through his veins, burning in his chest, making the pain in his battered face vanish under a veil of searing flames.

  In the fire, he heard music. The soaring sound of the guitar, the pounding of drums, undercut by a steady river of bass notes that kept the flame burning bright. It was the sound of passion, of being indestructible, creation's hammer upon the anvil of time. It was the sound of whole worlds being brought into being, their genesis becoming his rebirth.

  Vann let the music take him, and abstraction b
ecame reality.

  His fingers found the notes with perfect accuracy, his magic becoming the orange of a well-kindled fire. It rippled out from him and colored their magical beam, pushing back Ansel's with it's force. Through the fire and flames he saw Ansel's eyes widen.

  Vann played faster and faster, Janaza matching his pace without a word being spoken between them, their harmonic connection telling her what she needed to do. Arielle added to it, and they pushed the High Lord's men back and back, until they began to waver. Their notes lost their steadiness, magic bleeding off their beam, and Vann pressed forward.

  Then the guards wavered a little too much, as it proved their undoing. Their spell fell apart for a split second, then a beam of red-gold fire swept over them. They were blasted backwards, the weaker ones being incinerated wholesale by the searing flames, the stronger ones like Ansel being scattered like fallen leaves.

  They held the last note as the magic dissipated, motes of light disappearing into the air like embers from a fire. Vann surveyed the scene in front of him, his breathing even, the guitar warm beneath his hands.

  Then the pain in his face flooded back all at once and he let out a agonized groan, clutching his head in his hands. “Ow,” he muttered.

  “Are you okay?” Janaza asked, kneeling down by his side.

  “I'll live,” Vann muttered. “You?”

  “A few scratches.” Janaza made to wave him off, and blood spurted from a gash in her arm. She made a face. “Okay, perhaps more than scratches.”

  Arielle leaned against the tree, her body shuddering from exertion. “No more music today please...”

  Shakily, they all braced each other and got to their feet. “Yeah,” Vann agreed. “Let's just... let's just get out of here.”

  “You guys are clear,” Rorzan said. “Oh, and Vann?”

  “Hm?”

  The ghost smiled at him. “Nice work.” Vann managed the widest grin he could, then set off with Janaza and Arielle, the three tired adventurers leaning on one another for support.

  As they did, Rorzan turned to survey the area again. The Song they'd played had ended the fight handily, with all of the guards down for the count – save for one.

  Rorzan's face hardened as he flew towards the retreating figure of Guard Captain Ansel. He'd taken the least of the damage from the wildfire spell, though every hair on his body had been singed off and Rorzan could make out a great many blisters on his bare skin.

  He floated around in front of the Captain, then made himself visible. “Boo.”

  Ansel looked like he nearly had a heart attack, falling over onto his front and scrambling away from him. “Ah! Ah!”

  “Listen, lapdog,” Rorzan growled, menacing the man. He altered his form until it appeared as though his hair was on fire, and his eyes bored into Ansel's soul. “While you run back to your master with your tail between your legs, I want you to bring him a message from me...”

  As the day wore on, the group forged onward, only stopping in the late afternoon when they felt they'd put enough distance between them and the sight of the battle. Then, exhaustion made them all sit and rest for a long while, and that long while eventually turned into “let's just camp here for the night.” They were far enough away from the mountains that they didn't need a fire.

  Janaza worked her magic on them all, the thick, sinuous notes from her bass zipping their wounds and kickstarting the healing process. “You do that well,” Arielle said, watching a scrape on her hand scab over in moments.

  “I've had a lot of practice,” Janaza said, letting a low note hang open. Vann felt the pain in his face recede.

  “You all did fantastic back there,” Rorzan said, floating in circles around them. “Especially you, Vann! You're a natural with that thing!”

  Vann rested his fingers on the guitar next to him. “You think so?”

  “I know so. And I'm infinitely wise, so there.” Vann smiled.

  Janaza got to her feet slowly. “We passed a stream a ways back,” she said. “I'm going to go clean up.” Her eyes flitted to Vann as she turned and walked away, back up the path they'd came. What had that expression been? A warning? An invitation?

  As the orc vanished into the tree line, Vann felt the chill of Rorzan's presence next to him. “Vann,” the ghost said. “Like I said yesterday, I'm not one to tell you how to do things. But if you're looking for some kind of opportune moment to talk to her?” He patted Vann's shoulder with his hand as best he could. “You're not going to get much better than this.”

  Vann looked at Rorzan, then to where Janaza had gone. He nodded. “Arielle, will you be okay?”

  “Just leave the guitar, dear,” she said, beckoning with a hand. “If something happens... well, you'll hear it.”

  Vann unhooked the instrument from around his shoulders and leaned it against the tree where the elf sat. Then he walked off into the forest, following Janaza's path through the trees. He mulled in his mind about what he was going to say to her. “I'm sorry” felt contrite and rote. It would probably be better to just start talking and see where things went.

  He found the orc standing by the bank of a stream as she'd said, washing grit and blood off her skin with careful motions. Her hair was out of it's braid, falling around her face like a veil, the dark strands catching the moonlight in a way that gave the orc an aura of mystery. She turned her head as he approached, her golden eyes glowing in the evening twilight. Vann stopped and looked her in the eye, keeping his mouth shut. He didn't trust himself to start.

  “You perplex me, Vann.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Janaza rose and turned towards him, wiping the last bits of water off her arms. “When confronted with someone who wants to lie with you, you turn her down. Yet when faced with an enemy barrelling down on one of your allies with the intent to kill, you throw yourself at him with reckless abandon, heedless of your own safety.” She folded her arms. “I find it rather interesting. You have bravery in some areas, but not in others.” She narrowed her eyes a little. “It's an... interesting discrepancy to say the least.”

  Vann shifted where he stood. “I acted on instinct in Arielle's defense,” he said.

  “And you did a good job. But that's not what we need to talk about.”

  He nodded. “No, it's not.”

  Janaza sighed, her thumbs hooking into the waistband of her leather skirt. “Vann, if you're not truly interested in me, then please, tell me. I've been getting so many mixed messages from you, and it's really frustrating me.”

  “It's not...” Vann said, then stopped. Could he really talk about this with her? Her eyes held no judgement, simply waiting on an answer. “It's difficult for me to talk about sex, Janaza.”

  “I got that,” she said. “Are you... interested in men?”

  “Why does everyone assume that?” Vann muttered. “No, I'm not.”

  “Are you not interested in me?”

  Slowly, Vann shook his head. “No. I am very much interested in you. In fact I think you're one of the most beautiful women I've ever met.”

  Janaza blinked, and Vann actually saw the orc blush a little. “Then why are we doing this dance, Vann, if we don't have to be?” She took a few steps closer to him, her swaying hips drawing his eye.

  “Because the concept of someone wanting to... to be with me... is just foreign,” Vann said, feeling the words coming easier and easier as he spoke. “The only two partners I've ever had are a barmaid, who couldn’t fit me inside her and left me naked in the back room of a tavern, and Lady Branna, who she wasn't interested in any part of me but my cock.”

  “I mean,” Janaza said as she drew close to him. “Can't say I blame her entirely.” Her tone softened. “But you deserve more than that, Vann. You have a kind heart, and a talent for music. There's plenty more to you than just your manhood.” She was close to him, her scent in his nose making him feel slightly heady.

  “I've gone my whole life not being able to ask for what I want,” Vann said, lookin
g up into her nebulous golden eyes. “I find it hard to even think of doing so now, even though I can.”

  “Well then, we'll just have to work on that,” Janaza said, tipping her head down towards him. “We can start now.”

  “Now?”

  “No better time,” the orc purred. “What do you want from me, Vann? Tell me.”

  Vann's eyes weren't shy about their hunger as they roamed up and down her body, lingering on the bare expanses of her dusky orange skin, her taut belly and what he could see of her tits. He felt himself getting hard rapidly, his cock tenting his pants. The orc took notice, her grin only growing wider. She reached up and ran her fingers over herself, lingering on her erogenous zones. “Tell me,” she repeated again, her voice husky.

  Vann looked her in the eye and took a step forward, pressing his body into hers. “I want you, Janaza,” he murmured. “Every inch of you.” Then he stood up on tiptoe and kissed the orc on the lips.

  Immediately Janaza's arms wrapped around him in a firm bear hug, and she leaned down a little so he didn't have to strain to meet her mouth. Her lips was impossibly soft, her small tusks only a minor obstacle as Vann kissed her as best he could. He didn't have much practice or technique, but he made up for it in raw passion and need. His hands slid around her waist, feeling her skin and teasing her with his fingertips.

  They broke apart after a moment, panting, and looked at one another. After a moment, Vann snickered. “Your hair is a mess.”

  Janaza quirked an eyebrow. “Only because you messed it up!” she protested. Her indignant tone was cute, and Vann laughed harder. “Why you!” The orc fell backwards onto the thick grass beneath them, yanking Vann down with her with a theatrical yelp. She rolled them over until she was on top, her eyes staring down at him with a playful expression.

  Vann had to admit – he kind of liked being underneath the orc's muscled bulk, especially because his erection was pressed into her midriff. “So, uh...” he began hesitantly, then forged on ahead. “Does that offer to use your mouth still stand?”