“I—I don’t perform any more.”
Some of the patrons at nearby tables looked at him, creating a pocket of silence in the general buzz of the crowd. A couple looked at the server, a questioning look in their eyes, but she shook her head. Instead, she mumbled an apology and wandered off, leaving Navin with his ale. He stared at it for several breaths, no longer in the mood to drink. What once had smelled sweet and enticing was now sour and foul.
After a while, he muttered a curse and stood, pushing his way to the door. Thanks to her question, the numbing effect on his emotions had been sheared away by the blade of bitter memory. He no longer had reason to be here.
As he stepped through the door and down the single step to the street, he stumbled and had to take several quick steps to keep from falling on his face. He veered to the right, reaching a hand out to the wall to keep from falling over. Navin closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, waiting until he regained his sense of balance. Once he felt able to walk again, he wobbled down the street, only half-seeing his surroundings as he meandered through the town of Horn. The hour kept most people indoors, and those who were still outside gave him a wide berth. More than one gave him a pointed look of disgust.
More than once he needed to stop and lean on a building or tree when the walking became too strenuous. At least the cold air bit through his clothes, helping to sober him up a bit. Over time the stops became shorter and less frequent, the world settling into the one he was both familiar with and tried to avoid.
At one such stop, he looked up at the sign of the building he was leaning against. It showed a bard in full revelry, leaning back in a chair with a lute across his lap. His scarlet uniform was chipped and faded from the sun and weather and had been repainted more than once. The scrawled words underneath read The Bard’s Cottage.
That image burned in his vision, and Navin wanted nothing more than to tear it down and set fire to it. His hands clenched into fists, and the muscles of his jaw tightened. Bending down, he scooped up a rock and hurled it at the sign. It struck the wood with a solid thwack, and another piece of paint chipped off. The sign swung back and forth on the post, the metal hooks squeaking as they moved.
Navin picked up another rock and hurled it at the swaying portrait of what he used to be. He picked up a third and cocked his arm back to throw it when a thick hand closed around his wrist and tightened like a vise, forcing him to drop the stone.
His attacker spun him around and pushed him up against the wall hard enough to make his head smack against the wood. The man seemed to be on patrol, wearing light, comfortable clothing, with a sword visible on his hip and a bow strung over his shoulder. He held his hand against Navin’s chest, pinning him in place.
“How about you stop damaging other people’s property? Maybe you should let me escort you out of town.”
Navin swatted the hand away and lurched forward. The man turned his shoulders, moving out of Navin’s way as he stumbled into the street. Navin turned and walked backward so he could address his assaulter. He made sure his words dripped as much sarcasm as possible.
“Your kindness is much appreciated, but I can find my own way.”
He flashed a smile and made a motion to doff a hat that he wasn’t wearing. The patrolman sighed and shook his head before turning and walking back toward the center of town. Navin chuckled at his joke, and offered a bow as he stumbled backward into the street.
“Watch out!”
Navin whipped around and saw a galloping team of horses pulling a carriage, and rushing straight at him. He froze, watching as they charged at him, only a few yards away now. The driver pulled hard on the reins, trying to get them to turn, but they were moving too quickly. Navin closed his eyes and relaxed, ready to accept his fate.
Something struck him in the side, and he tumbled to the edge of the road, rolling in the dirt and mud several times before sliding to a stop. He snapped his eyes open and looked around, trying to see what had hit him. A gray form that looked like a gigantic dog turned a corner in the distance, but it was too blurry for him to make out anything more of the creature. After rubbing his eyes, the animal—or whatever it was—was gone.
The driver finally stopped his team and jumped off the carriage, rushing over to Navin. The former bard continued staring at the corner where the gray creature had disappeared. Did I imagine it? I must have. It was just an alcohol-induced hallucination. I probably just slipped in the mud and rolled aside on my own.
As he shook his head, he became aware of the bone-numbing chill seeping through his wet, muddy clothes. He graciously accepted the driver’s help to get back on his feet.
“You all right? Looks like you had one too many. Come on now, my house isn’t far. You could use a fire and a warm meal, I’d wager. It’s the least I can do after almost running you down. We’ll get you a good place to rest and get some warm food in your belly to chase off that chill.”
The driver escorted Navin up to the driver’s bench, helping him climb into the seat. The older man sprang up next to him and clucked at the horses while snapping the reins. They began trotting down the street. Navin turned back and looked one last time at the corner, but he saw nothing.
:You must create.:
“What did you say?” Navin turned to the driver and asked, shouting to be heard over the clopping of the horse hooves on the ground.
“Nothing, lad. Probably just a bit of ringing from the tumble you took. Don’t worry, me and mine will get you back on your feet in no time.”
Navin shook his head. He knew he’d heard someone.
• • •
Navin stayed the night, but he decided to leave the next day before he overstayed his welcome. The stranger had shown him nothing but kindness, and he didn’t want to return the favor by draining the wine cellar and chasing off servants.
So it was that he found himself on the road again, heading south. The direction wasn’t important, as long as he continued to put distance between Haven and himself. Perhaps with distance or time spent in a foreign land, the memories would start to fade.
Over the course of the day, Navin kept off the main road—close enough to navigate by it but far enough away to not have to exchange pleasantries with other travelers. As night started to fall, he turned to the west, heading deeper into the wilderness for at least an hour. Out here, he could be in peace.
After lighting a fire, Navin went through the motions of eating, practiced so long that he never thought about them. He didn’t even bother seasoning the food, knowing he wouldn’t taste it anyway. He watched as the fire faded to embers, poking it with a stick once in a while until the pit was filled with ash. When there was just a flicker of light, he began to sing.
It was a wordless song, birthed deep in his stomach and rolling up past his throat in smooth, light tones. The music was deep and carried through the woods, echoing the sadness that Navin felt too strongly to acknowledge. His throat caught on a note, but he continued singing, closing his eyes and letting it flow through him rather than using conscious thought. After the third time his throat caught, he stopped, feeling the tears resting in the edge of his eyes.
:You sing beautifully:
Navin said nothing, taking several deep breaths and trying to ignore the voice in his head. Now that he was sober, he recognized the Mindspeech for what it was.
:You need rest.:
Navin stood and hurled the stick into the ashes, scattering them and getting a brief flash of red dots. He turned and faced the darkness, hoping for a glance at whoever it was that had invaded his mind.
“Who are you? What do you want?”
:I was appreciating the talents of a bard such as yourself. I need your help.:
“I’m not a bard anymore. Leave me alone.”
:You still are. You’ve just lost your way. You will find it again, in time.:
“You don’t kno
w what you’re talking about! Just let me die in peace.”
Navin dropped back down to the ground, collapsing into a slump so his arms hung over his knees and his head hung limply over his legs. Images floated back through the morass of his sodden memory, flashing in front of his eyes every time they closed.
At first they brought a smile to his face, bittersweet as it was to see Artis’ smile the first time they met. As always, the memories became treacherous as he watched his lover’s beautiful portrait change. His skin stretching and paling, dark spots appearing on the forehead and cheeks, and his bones becoming brittle and prone to breaking. Navin had watched Artis die, his body succumbing over time to a horrible, wasting disease the healers didn’t know how to cure. The only thing that remained were his clear emerald eyes, vibrant until the very last moment, when all light left them.
Wet streaks chilled Navin’s face as the tears formed and dripped to the ground yet again. Would the pain ever stop? It had been years, and still the images haunted him. Every time he thought he was over the pain, it found new ways to strike him again. And his music was the worst.
:You will never be cured of this weight. You need to learn to accept it.:
“Get out of my head! Leave me alone! I have nothing left.”
:You still have your Gifts. You will be great again. It is not your time to leave this world yet.:
Navin wiped his tears away with the back of his hand. Once his face was clean, he gritted his teeth and snarled at his unseen tormentor as he scrambled to his feet and marched away from the road. He’d show the voice. If death would not come to him, he’d go out and find it. There were wolves in this area, and probably other predators too. Let them claim his flesh so at least it would be over, and he could serve one last purpose.
As he stumbled through the darkness, Navin tried to see his would-be saviors. He screamed into the darkness, wordless calls of rage that he hoped would get a hungry animal’s attention. Anger fueled his charge into the black. When he finally saw a dark shape moving under the limited starlight, he stopped, holding his arms out and raising his chin.
“Come and feast.”
A pair of yellow eyes were visible in the shadows, accompanied by a low-pitched growl that made the hairs on his arm stand on edge. Two more pairs of eyes joined the first, and when the wind shifted, Navin caught a whiff of their scent. It was musky and heavy, a scent his brain associated with power and danger. The beasts came closer, one step at a time, their growls continuing but occasionally interrupted by the audible licking of their chops.
As one, the growls cut off, and the creatures’ eyes widened as they raised their heads. Their attention was focused on something else, to Navin’s left. He turned in that direction but saw nothing. Hearing a rustling sound, he turned back to see the predators running into the darkness on all fours.
:I told you, it is not your time yet.:
• • •
For the next couple of days, the voice was mercifully silent as Navin traveled to Sweetsprings. He tried to avoid thinking about it as much as he could. Not that it did him much good. He had quite a bit of experience trying to avoid thinking of something only to find it brought things to the forefront of memory with greater force. Alcohol was the only solution to his memory plague, and even that was temporary at best. It also didn’t always work. But soon he would be in Sweetsprings and could attempt to find temporary relief once again.
But what was the point? It sounded like a grand plan, to get away from Haven and everything that would remind him of Artis, to go somewhere new and different and shock himself into a new life. But even after weeks and miles, the dreams were just as vivid and just as powerful. They would never leave.
Navin looked to the East, where he could see the Jaysong Hills in the distance. Between him and those hills was the Terilee River, flowing from Haven almost all the way to Karse. It was swift and dangerous to try to cross, with many rocks scattered throughout its depths. What if that was his answer? Navin took one last look down the road to the south before turning left and heading toward the hills.
After a few hours, he reached the river. It was larger than he’d anticipated, and the center flowed swiftly enough to froth white where it collided with the rocks and swirled downstream. The water’s edge was deceptively calm, but even when looking down, he could hear the rush and rough splash as water crashed against stone. Cool mist filled the air, dampening his skin and filling the air with a marshy odor. For a moment, Navin closed his eyes and tried to relish the beauty and sweet surrender. But then the images appeared again.
With a groan, he stepped into the water. As it bled through his boots, the cold shocked him, and he sucked in air. By the time it was up to his knees, his legs were shaking, and he found it difficult to keep moving forward. But he knew if he did, that final release would soon be his. All he had to do was take a few more steps, fall over, and let nature run its course. It was just a shame that his mysterious mind-speaker wasn’t here to witness the moment. Destiny and greatness be damned.
The water was up to his thighs now, and he could no longer see the bottom due to the silt kicked up by the current and swirling around in small eddies. It tugged at his legs, threatening to pull him over. Not yet. He needed to go deeper. He didn’t want to take any chances and risk being washed ashore still alive.
The riverbed took a sudden dip he wasn’t expecting, and he stumbled, sinking under the water’s surface. The icy temperature shocked him again, and every muscle in his body tightened. His head pounded in the sudden cold, and instinct kicked in. He swam to the surface, struggling to get his face above water. Already he’d washed several yards downriver, the current hustling him along.
With a solid crack, Navin’s right shoulder slammed into a rock sticking above the surface. A sudden flare of heat in the area fought the cold, and his arm screamed in pain. He struggled to stay afloat for a few more strokes, and then he remembered why he was here.
Navin relaxed, letting his body go limp as it was buffeted against boulders and his head sank under the surface. His time was now, and he could finally let go of the pain. Again he closed his eyes and saw Artis’ face, with that disarming, entrancing smile, shining before him—
Something grabbed his shirt, scraping his back in the process, and carving four gashes in his skin. Shocked, Navin tried to shout in pain but only sucked water into his lungs. He coughed, trying to get the water out as he was hauled from the river by his shirt. Whoever carried him bounded from one rock to the next, dropping him to the ground once they’d reached the shore.
Navin squinted his eyes shut as he continued spluttering, trying to force the water out. He felt something warm and wet pressed against his back, rolling him onto his side so that when he did manage to clear his lungs, he could spit it out. As he rolled back, he looked up into the face of his savior.
What he saw first were the eyes: rich emerald eyes that looked so much like the ones he saw every time he closed his own. His breath caught, and not because of the water. The eyes were framed by a lupine face covered in dark gray fur speckled with white, like a large dog that had gotten too close to an enthusiastic artist. The creature was larger than any wolf he’d ever seen, easily three feet tall at the shoulder. It had to be a kyree. He’d heard legends of them, but he had never seen one before, nor knew anyone who had.
The kyree looked back at him with an unmistakable intelligence.
:It is not your time.:
The familiar voice in Navin’s head forced him to sit up. He propped himself up on his hands, making the creature take a step back. He reached out a hand as if to touch the creature and then hesitated. It took a step forward, rubbing its face against Navin’s palm.
“Who are you?”
:I am Korrin, wanderer for my people. My duty is to tell their story. I need your help.:
“How could I possibly help you?”
:You are Navi
n, the songwriter. I have heard you sing, and I hear the song still in your heart. You are the one who must help me tell the story. Your pain, while sad, is needed to mirror the pain of my tribe.:
Navin dropped his gaze, looking at the ground between his legs. How could he possibly agree to this? Korrin didn’t know the pain he had been through and how it had destroyed his ability to create. Once he might have been capable of doing the kyree justice, but not anymore. Not for a long time. Not since . . .
When Navin raised his gaze, he found himself staring once again into the vibrant green eyes. They reminded him so much of Artis it was painful. But he saw something in that gaze. There was a sadness that mirrored his own, something that he could relate to. But there was also a softness around the edges, a sense of caring and protection. It provided a warmth that flooded through his body, one he thought he’d never feel again.
For the first time in a long while, Navin smiled an easy smile, without putting on a mask.
“Tell me your story.”
Unresolved Consequences
Elizabeth A. Vaughan
Dearest Father,
Many, many thanks for the supplies that recently arrived by caravan. My heart danced with joy to see my name, Lady Ceraratha, in your handwriting on the crates and barrels, not to mention your warm letter.
The dried fruits and grains have been stored and will help assure the survival of the people of Sandbriar. I know full well, however, that the value of what you sent far exceeded the value of the clothing and embroidered items I sent to you to sell. I can only hope that in time I can compensate you for the difference.
I also acknowledge the truth of your good advice, Father, that while Sandbriar can sustain itself with agriculture, it must develop trade in order to do more than just survive. Embroidery, no matter how skilled, will only go so far. I am searching for alternatives now. There is a source of a different type of wool here. If I can secure that, then the land and people under my care will thrive.
Crucible Page 5