“Sit,” she instructed, guiding him down to the bed. He sat, looking up at her hypnotic eyes.
“Relax,” she giggled. “I will not bite you.”
“I know I just…” he began but she cut him off, kissing him gently. Reven fell into it willingly, even going so far as to pull her closer to him. She offered no resistance, easily taking control to maximize her own pleasure. Reven did not argue, did not speak, silently following her lead, her desires until things progressed to a near suffocating crescendo…
…that made the world around him tremble to its very core. The bedroom vanished, Serai just a distant memory, and the darkness around him painfully penetrating.
Reven flinched when a dim light illuminated in the distance. It wasn’t enough to be blinding, but the darkness was so deep that even the dim flicker was enough to make him narrow his eyes.
“Hello?” he called, taking careful steps toward the light. He fought a tightness in his chest. He had to have faith, to trust again without second guessing. He continued forward putting his long-forgotten trust and faith in Serai. “Hello?”
The light flickered, forming itself into a single orange flame. It did not appear to have a source, hovering in mid-air. Wisps of orange and yellow and blue danced together casting no shadow. The light extended only so far into the consuming darkness but gradually grew bright enough to be truly blinding. Eventually, his eyes adjusted, the darkness returning to claim the light of the flame. Except, there was no flame. Instead, Reven now looked at a… boy. To call him such was grossly inaccurate. He looked to be about adolescent in age if Reven had to guess. Even then, age was difficult to place for the boy was not one of the mortal races. He had the face and torso of a human, but hair of feathers. His shoulders blended seamlessly into large, powerful wings and he stood on clawed feet like those of a bird.
“Hello,” the bird-boy said. His voice was deeper than expected but still rang with a childish lilt. In fact, it sounded oddly familiar.
“Uh… hello,” Reven croaked, swallowing hard on his own stupid fears and insecurities. The bird-boy smiled. His skin was a deep tan, but the plumage of his feathers was an orange-blue ombre that matched his eyes. “Do… I know you?”
“Yes,” the creature answered simply. He crouched, making him appear much smaller than Reven, but he looked up at the bard with complete adoration.
Reven could only frown in confusion for a few moments before the ‘who’ this boy was finally materialized.
“Azure…” Reven breathed out. The creature’s smile broadened.
“Hello, Beloved.”
Reven glanced around, still only seeing darkness, then back at Azure. “I don’t understand what’s happening. Where are we?”
Azure stood. He was still shorter than Reven but taller than expected. He extended a wing, his rough hand sticking out of the feathers with sharp claws at the tip of each awkward looking finger. Reven blinked, hesitating but Azure simply waited patiently. When Reven finally took Azure’s hand, everything shifted.
The darkness blurred together in a haze of colors like a smear of heavenly bodies in the sky. When the movement stopped, the pair stood before a giant pool of brilliant silver-blue ‘water’. At the center of the pool stood a wizened old man made of the same watery substance. The old man regarded Reven with a cordial nod.
“We see you, Son of the Flame,” the man said with a voice that reverberated with the Power of many. It was overwhelming to hear, bringing tears to Reven’s eyes. “You are Called again.”
Reven looked up, mouth dropping open. The emphasis on the first letter made him worry. “Called? Again?”
The overwhelming Power grew in strength, showing him a rich history of men and women that stood before him with the capacity to speak with these beings. Nodes; pure sources of unrefined Power that gave the planet its life. He saw a time when there was no life to the Nodes, no Power to fuel anything. People suffered. Many died, or worse. What followed brought unspeakable horrors that continued to plague mortal kind; demons, devils, monsters of unimaginable horror. Then, slowly, the Nodes returned and, so too, did their Vessels; their Speakers.
“Oh gods,” Reven croaked. He stumbled back, grabbing at his head with a grimace. “I…”
“Breathe, Beloved,” Azure said. “I am here.”
Oddly enough, that both terrified and comforted the bard all at once. However, the gentle reminder did draw a ragged breath from his lungs, leaving him dizzy and light-headed. Reven let the vertigo carry him to his knees. When he looked up, Azure crouched beside him and the old man watched him closely.
“Why…” Reven forced out, his voice barely audible and terribly scratchy. He took a moment to gather himself and tried again. “Why do you call me Beloved?”
Azure tilted his head in thought even adding a pensive twist to his lips. “What else would I call you? You are mine to protect, to guide; beloved.”
“Then you know who I am,” Reven pointed out. “Why can’t I remember anything?”
Azure shrank then, the plumage on his head flattening against his scalp. The old man remained silent. Reven looked between them but settled on Azure.
“Did…” he began.
“It is complicated,” the bird-boy meeped. “Something awful happened. You pulled too much Power; more than you could handle. More… more than I could handle. I very nearly lost you all over again and-”
“Again?” Reven repeated with a worried chuckle. “This has happened before?”
“Azure is too young,” the old man admonished. When he spoke, his voice was felt as a pounding echo of a thousand voices. It was terrifyingly beautiful to hear. Reven let the voice rock him back onto his haunches and sink into his soul, filling a void he hadn’t realized had been so empty until now.
“I am not! You’re too old!” Azure crowed back in response. His plumage fluffed up and he stood tall in a manner that suggested this was a regular argument
between the two Powerful beings. Reven only shook his head. He felt tired and raw. Arguments and explanations could wait for another time.
“Forget I asked,” he chortled in a near whisper. He’d gone five years as a blank slate, he could suffer a bit more. He wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to know his past anyway.
“The Vessel is weak,” the old man said.
“Well, it’s been a very long day,” Reven replied. He shut his eyes feeling the vertigo return…
… and slowly melt away with the rising of the sun outside his window. He stared at the yellow-white orb until it became blinding then rolled away. The exhaustion was incapacitating and his mind was a haze of new, raw knowledge. He blinked a few times when he turned and saw Serai sleeping soundly beside him. He stared at the tiny freckles on her back, slowly recalling the previous evening.
Well played, he thought, reaching for Serai to pull her closer to him. Serai only grumbled in minor protest, settling back against him without further complaint. He held her close, nuzzling into her neck before falling back into exhausted sleep with an orange- blue phoenix watching them from the window.
Chapter Eleven
High above the city limits of Azucena, a single creature soared among the stars. Periodically, the figure dipped into the few clouds in the night sky or became one with the silhouette of the mountains to the north. Kaleo watched the figure until its shadow vanished from the sky completely. Azure. That meant his father was close.
Kaleo sat at the edge of the giant fountain at the center of the city, with two bags sitting at his feet and a guitar over his shoulder. He ate a thick, spicy stew from a terracotta bowl, shoveling it all in his mouth quickly before it grew cold or, worse, was stolen from his hands. That had happened more often than not in his travels. His leg felt like agonizing fire. Two months of living life as a vagabond made him feel like a failure and he was starting to feel ill on top of it all. He ate only once a day and slept in alleys, searching inn after inn for his father. People who passed offered him a glance - the only person wearin
g a cloak in the middle of a desert heat wave - but otherwise were content to leave him in peace; for now.
The city itself looked rough. Directly across from where he sat were twin towers with rickety plank- board bridges connecting them at various spots along their unnatural height. To the diagonal from the towers was a single-story building that was nearly as long as the fountain was tall with several steps leading up to giant double doors of polished wood. Other, smaller buildings dotted the area; businesses varying from food vendors to weapon smiths and everything in between. The city sat at the edge of the Campo de Arena, the great desert that the locals called ‘the field of sand’. Despite the heat, all of the buildings were so close together they were practically touching with the only space to breathe being the center where the Fuente del Cielo stood. The fountain predated time itself according to the legends. Kaleo knew that could not possibly be, but it was still awe-inspiring to see something from a time before the Destruction. As he sat there, he realized how incredibly small his world really was.
He sighed, absently rubbing his leg. He must have winced, for an old woman leaving an offering at the fountain scuttled away, marking herself with a sign against evil. Kaleo blinked and glanced at the goods left behind: a doll made of straw, an orange-colored fruit with bumps on it, and a tiny terracotta dish. Nothing worth stealing. The fruit, maybe, but he’d never seen anything like it and hesitated.
“Tu!” a large man said, pointing right at Kaleo before grabbing him by the scruff. The action twisted him all up, and tangled his wings in the cloak and the guitar at his back.
“Ah, what’d I do!” Kaleo cried, his voice cracking as the man hauled him bodily away from the fountain without even letting him grab his bags. It didn’t take long for those that loitered to descend upon the bags as Kaleo was dragged deeper into the crowd, limping along with each step producing a wave of fire up his leg. “Wait! Those are mine! Let go!”
Kaleo’s pleas disappeared into the crowd as he was hauled away to a fate unknown.
***
“… for help and where is he? Nowhere to be seen, but if I find my own help he shits kittens!”
Two weeks between regular shows for the lord of Azucena was the decided path of least resistance between Liam and Reven for the negotiated contract that the bard was responsible for. Liam wanted more, Reven less if for no other reason than to give his voice and fingers a break. However, the bard could not argue with the revenue that was already rolling in or the bonuses slipped into his pockets for the private events given to those in power. Fine details, however, were still left too often to chance for Reven’s liking. Today, for example, was to be the first of many shows with special guests from La Mesa del Mundo - a monastery of sorts that taught the legally recognized leadership of Mahala. It was in the cartel lord’s best interest to make peace with them which, for some unknown reason, required grand entertainment. However, grand entertainment required staff that Reven did not actually have. He had Serai, her drums, and his violin. Neither were anywhere near grand.
“Complaining again, my love?” Ajana asked as she ducked through the curtain separating the set-up area from the growing crowd behind the open-air theatre. She surprised both Reven and Serai with her presence, floating in with little fanfare. She wore simple leathers with a satchel at her hip that had a distinct bulge in it.
“What are you doing here?” Reven asked, greeting her with a hug and kiss that Serai copied. “Liam said you weren’t coming.”
“Have you not learned to not listen to Liam?” Ajana giggled. “I had a job to do. Do you need me to dance tonight?”
He watched her remove the satchel settling it between a stack of crates used to store props and small instruments. There were trunks of costumes and fabrics for curtains or decoration and dusty candelabras with fat beads of wax crusted to them. Everything was dusty despite the good cleaning Reven had given the theatre for his use. The downfall of working and living in a desert. “I would love for you to dance if you’re feeling up to it. What job?”
Ajana only opened the flap of the satchel, flashing a palm-sized gem of a color so dark it looked black. He smiled at her already imagining the payout for that lovely bauble - - and then grimaced at the argument he knew such a payout would inevitably bring.
“I’ll get dressed,” Ajana said, already stripping off her outfit for something more suitable to the stage. That was until a large, dark man with a scowl on his scarred face nearly bowled her over. He worked for Luca, the ruling cartel lord of Azucena. The scarred man’s specific job was unclear, but he was always with Senor Luca and his runeli mistress. Regardless, Tomas was a highly unpleasant fellow.
Reven groaned. “If you insist on interrupting me the show will be awful and Senor Luca will have your head on a spit for appetizers. I’m busy Tomas.”
The man’s scowl deepened but he remained silent, shoving a young boy at Reven instead. “From Liam.”
That was all the henchman said, leaving the boy wide-eyed and confused. Reven glanced at the women who both shrugged. The boy had large teal wings and a mop of overgrown hair that was a slightly darker color than his wings plastered to his brow. He wore dirty clothes that might have once been fine but otherwise had no other belongings to speak of save a guitar that he was unsuccessfully trying to disentangle from his wings and cloak.
“Wonderful,” Reven grumbled. “Can you actually play that, or do you just carry it around for show?”
“I… you… uhm…” the boy started. He was distracted and in desperate need of a good wipe-down among other things. “What?”
“You can play, correct?” Reven asked. The boy paused long enough to glance around at his immediate surroundings, but nodded. “That, I’m assuming, yes?”
“Uhm… the guitar?” the boy answered with so much uncertainty Reven nearly snapped the violin bow in his hands. The child was still spinning himself in a small circle, trying to get the strap out from underneath his wing. Reven watched, eyebrow raised and face full of annoyance.
“Seriously, I’m picking the next one. Where does he find these people, on an urchin trade block??”
The boy frowned, face growing red to the point Reven thought he might cry. In fact, he caught the distinct sheen of tears in the boy’s eyes once he stopped spinning that made the annoyance in the bard grow. Instead of crying, however, the boy stepped in front of Reven and said, “That great giant lout just grabbed me off the fountain and dragged me here while I was eating the first decent meal I’ve had in days! I know how to play; my father taught me. Guitar is what I’m best at but not the only instrument I know. Is that good enough for you Master Bard, or shall I find you a different urchin?”
Reven stared at the boy with narrowed eyes. The boy stared back with defiance in his green eyes. So, he was not full avian. The colorings of the winged race always matched - hair, wings, eyes. If they didn’t, then they were not ‘pure’ and usually given to the life of a troubadour or thief-taker. Still, he had moxy, which made Reven smirk.
“Does the urchin have a name?” the bard asked.
“Kaleo,” the boy answered, once again trying to disentangle himself from his guitar.
The voice. Reven liked the kid already.
“Talk to Ajana,” Reven said. “She’ll find you something to wear. Stop spinning.”
The boy froze for a moment, watching Reven closely while the bard removed the strap on the guitar and freed the boy’s wing. Reven handed the instrument back then gave the boy a little turn and shove toward Ajana. Kaleo maintained silence until the show, quietly going over music Reven wrote specifically for this performance. It was important to Senor Luca that the monks be impressed with festive music that paid respect to the Trinity, a triad of deities that were worshiped in Mahala. Periodically, Reven glanced at Kaleo, watching the boy go over the music carefully. The boy, he noticed, watched him just as carefully.
“You like him,” Serai said, walking up beside the bard. Reven glanced at her and grinned, sliding his a
rm around her waist to pull her close. She smiled.
“Maybe,” Reven replied. “I feel like I know him. And, he still has to actually play for me to really like him. ‘Pretty’ better not be his only talent.”
Serai looked at the boy, watching Ajana drape the poor thing in fabrics and bangles while he tried to study music. Every time Kaleo glanced at Reven, there was a silent plea in the boy’s eyes, a look that begged for recognition. It was a look Reven ignored until after the performance. Kaleo was, in fact, more than just a pretty face and quite a treat to listen to. He had phenomenal talent with the resonance that could one day lead the boy down the path as an actual bard like Reven. He learned quickly and played well if a little hesitantly when distracted. There were a few times he tripped up over the notes because Ajana was gyrating across the stage. The crowd did not seem to notice, responding with thunderous applause and coins tossed onto the stage along with the desert flowers that were common practice to throw for a well-loved performance.
“So, the urchin can play,” Reven said after the show. Kaleo looked at him, flushing some. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-one,” Kaleo answered. Reven winced. He was an infant by avian standards, barely into his first season of life.
“And your parents?” Reven continued. A flash of pain crossed the boy’s face.
“Dead,” he said with a heaviness that was nearly crushing. Reven had seen too many misplaced children of all races. It was far too common in his line of work. Children were sold into slavery or picked up by large guilds for thieving. Recently, there was a large increase in tirsai children owing to the fall of the Phoenix Empire some years back. Liam guessed that was where Reven originated from given how he spoke but they never discussed the matter further. Given how Kaleo spoke, the bard was inclined to make the same guestimation of the boy’s origins.
Ashes to Embers Page 10