Mariyah’s heart raced. His auburn curls fell around his shoulders, the claret shirt he wore accentuating his olive complexion. He was built thicker than most, even more so than Kiro, yet was quite tall. Selene could say anything she wanted; Mariyah thought him the most beautiful boy she’d ever seen.
His balisari, an unusual instrument and considered one of the most difficult to master, had a teardrop-shaped body and two necks, one broad, one narrow, joined at the top by an elegantly carved headstock that fanned out like the tail feathers of a bird. The rich burgundy finish was beginning to dull from years of wear, but with the gold inlay around the outer body and swirling up both necks, it was still strikingly beautiful.
Seeing them approach, Lem abruptly ended the melody and signaled to the small crowd that he’d be taking a short break. He wrapped Mariyah in a tight hug and gave Kiro a fond slap on the shoulder.
“Good to see you, Kiro. How goes the apprenticeship?”
Several disgruntled remarks drew their attention. The small crowd was growing, and newcomers were wondering why there was no music.
“I’ll tell you later,” said Kiro.
Lem nodded, then gave Mariyah a light kiss on the tip of her nose. “Are you staying?”
“What do you think?”
Lem picked up his instrument, and the peevish voices quickly quieted as he remounted the dais and resumed playing. Mariyah and Kiro found a spot nearby to sit and listen.
The first song, “Stars in the Water,” was a tribute to the Sunflow River. It was a happy little tune with a bouncing rhythm that urged several of the spectators to their feet, who danced about and sang along with the lyrics. The second, “The Tree of Vylari’s Soul,” was a more serious affair, and one of Mariyah’s favorites. It told of dark times and wicked deeds, when war and death had plagued the land, and how, in the end, the wise founders had banished the evils of magic and conflict to create a new paradise: Vylari. It was an old song, said to have been written at the founding, though admittedly Mariyah was unsure how true that was. No one really knew when Vylari had been founded or when the barrier that kept it safe was created. Truth be told, no one much cared. Vylari existed and was protected, and that was enough.
Lem’s talent was obvious, and it was little wonder he was sought by the wealthiest families to play at their gatherings. And it was clear that he enjoyed entertaining much more than he did teaching. Unfortunately, festivals and other functions were largely seasonal, so students were a must.
After an hour, Kiro excused himself. “Better see what kind of mischief the others are getting into, and if I can keep them from getting into any more.”
By the time Lem took another break, the pavilion was completely filled. Shouts of “Keep playing” and “Don’t stop” followed him as he made his way to join Mariyah.
“I can’t believe you have to go away again,” she said.
Lem sighed. “I know. Me either. But you know how it is. I have to make as much as I can this fall, or I’ll end up with twice the number of students this winter.”
Mariyah wrapped her arm around his and leaned her head on his chest. “I wish I could come with you.”
Lem chuckled. “And let the winery crumble in your absence? You know your father’s hopeless without you.”
“I know,” she sighed. “But it’s a nice dream.” There was a long silence. Mariyah could sense there was something on Lem’s mind. Before she could ask, he gently moved her away and took her hands.
“I was thinking about giving it up.”
Mariyah furrowed her brow. “Giving what up?”
“This. Your father’s right about one thing: This is no life for you. I need to stay closer to home. What kind of husband would I be if I constantly left you alone?”
“What else would you do?”
“I was considering asking your father for work,” he replied.
Mariyah laughed. “You? Work with Father?”
“Why not? I’m strong enough. And I already tend the garden at my house. How hard could growing grapes be?”
Mariyah touched his cheek. “I would never ask you to give up playing. And there’s more to it than growing grapes. Making good wine takes years of practice.”
“We have years. I’m sure your father would say yes.”
“Lem, I love you. I truly do. But sometimes you’re as thick as stone. You’d be miserable. And if you’re worried over leaving me by myself, I intend to come along with you.”
“That’s just it. You wouldn’t be able to.”
“And why not?” she demanded.
“You know as well as I do your father could never run things without you. And as much as it irks you sometimes, I know you love working at the winery.”
The thought of Lem giving up his life was never a thing she had considered. It seemed cruel. “I … I don’t know. I’ll need to think about it.”
“Of course.” Lem kissed her hand. “We have all the time in the world.”
Lem played for a few more hours, taking short breaks to sit with Mariyah. Selene came by once, though she stayed only long enough to tell Mariyah that they were leaving the festival to meet on the east bank of the Sunflow. Mariyah promised to join them after Lem had finished for the night, though she knew it was a lie even as she said it. Lem was only home for another day before heading north to Gunderton, which of the five towns in Vylari hosted the largest of the Harvest Festivals. But as much as she wanted to go with him, there was simply too much work to be done at home.
Perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing for Lem to work with Father, she thought, then quickly banished the idea. Lem would be wasted as a winemaker. She would not be the cause of his misery. And working with her father would most assuredly be miserable.
When the final melody was over, Lem strapped his balisari across his back and walked with Mariyah to the row of food and sweets vendors. Lem picked out a few pieces of hard candy, making sure that at least three were tart apple, Mariyah’s favorite.
“Selene asked us to meet them at the Sunflow,” she told him, pursing her lips as the deliciously sour taste filled her mouth.
“If you’d like, we’ll go,” he offered.
“I’d rather not, if you don’t mind.”
Lem pulled her in closer. “I have all the company I need right here.”
“Me too.”
The booths were starting to close down for the night, and the crowd was thinning as people began making their way home. It was nearly midnight now, and Mariyah knew they needed to start back too.
As they exited the festival grounds, a chill air blew in from the north, sending a shiver through Mariyah’s entire body.
“Winter’s coming early this year,” she said, folding her arms to her chest.
“That’s what Shemi said too.” Lem was doing his best to keep her warm.
“Where was your uncle tonight?” she asked.
Lem shrugged. “Who knows? I didn’t see him while I was playing. Probably wandering around here somewhere.”
Mariyah adored Shemi. He had a quick wit and casual manner that never failed to put her at ease. He was Lem’s uncle, but he felt like family to many of the children in Olian Springs. As a youth, Shemi had spent most of his time wandering around Vylari, never settling down to a ‘respectable’ profession, earning a living doing odd jobs and selling the furs and meat from his hunts. Though it vexed some of the elders of the community, it meant he had a sense of adventure and countless stories to entertain the youngsters. Even now that he was an elder himself, his wanderlust had not diminished, though he typically stayed to the forests and hills within a day or two of home.
Lem and Mariyah turned from the well-worn causeway onto the lesser-used trail that would lead them to the eastern end of Mariyah’s land. They’d only walked a few yards down the path when they heard someone shouting Lem’s name from the road.
They turned and spotted Kiro striding urgently toward them, searching the faces of the passersby. Lem called back, waving h
is arm. Kiro broke into a run, sliding to a halt a few feet away.
“What’s wrong?” asked Lem.
“You have to get home right now,” he said, slightly out of breath.
“Is it Shemi?” asked Mariyah, a sudden stab of fear piercing her chest.
“No. Well, yes. Shemi’s fine. He’s the one who sent me. He came looking for you at the Sunflow, but he didn’t say why. Only that it was important you hurry.”
“Can you walk Mariyah home?”
“I’m coming with you,” she insisted, firmly.
“Your parents will worry. I’m sure it’s nothing.” When it was clear Mariyah was not bending, he placed his hands on her shoulders. “Please. I promise if it’s something bad, I’ll tell you.”
After a long moment, Mariyah let out a huff. “Fine. But I don’t need to be walked home.”
“I don’t mind,” said Kiro. “To be honest, I’m grateful for any excuse to get away from Selene and her friends. They’re unbearable when they’ve had this much to drink.”
Mariyah cupped Lem’s face in her palms. “You had better come get me if something’s wrong.”
Lem leaned down and kissed her. “On the spirits of my ancestors, you have my word.”
Mariyah rolled her eyes at the overstated promise. “Off with you.”
After a sharp nod to Kiro, Lem took off running. Mariyah watched until he was back onto the main road and well out of sight before starting out.
Lem was probably right in saying it was nothing. Shemi often quarreled with his neighbors. It was never severe, but Lem’s was the ear his uncle would bend each time. Yes. That had to be it.
Yet as they walked, Mariyah could not shake the feeling that this time there was more to it than a neighborly spat. But she dismissed this as irritation over her time with Lem being cut short. She would have to give Shemi a scolding when next she saw him. A sound scolding.
2
THE STRANGER
Do not fear the darkness. I am the light that guides you. Do not fear the unknown. Nothing can harm you so long as your faith in me holds true.
Book of Kylor, Chapter Eleven, Verse Twenty-Six
Lem ran, the balisari strapped to his back bouncing with each stride, fueling his already nagging anxiety. If the instrument was damaged, it would be an unmitigated disaster—it had been a gift from his mother, passed down through generations of her family. She’d told him that it had been brought to Vylari just before the barrier was created. There was no way to know if the story was true, though Lem had never come across another instrument quite like it.
Soon he was forced to slow to a brisk walk, out of breath and holding the stitch in his side. Though he was one of the taller, broader boys in Olian Springs, he always seemed to tire more quickly. Even the young children he taught seemed to have greater stamina. Of course, most boys spent their days tromping around in the forests, while Lem stayed at home practicing his instrument.
Likely he was worrying over nothing, he told himself as his breathing returned to a normal cadence. But it would be uncharacteristic for Shemi to call Lem away like this over something trivial.
Lem’s fears were confirmed as he drew near the house he and Shemi shared. It had been his mother’s house, and Shemi had been a welcome guest whenever he was in the area throughout Lem’s childhood. It was a modest dwelling, set fifty yards back from the road, with a sturdy front porch and red clay tiled roof. Though in need of a fresh coat of paint, it was in good repair, due in no small part to Shemi’s considerable carpentry skills.
Shemi was standing just outside the front door, talking to a tall woman with shoulder-length silver hair, clad in a long green-and-white robe and carrying an ash walking stick: Ferah, an elder on the council and highly respected among the people.
Shemi was still in the old leathers he wore on his long walks, his weathered features contorted into a deep troubled frown. Ferah was not a frequent guest; in fact, Lem had only met her once, when she had paid her respects the week his mother died. This was more than some minor spat between neighbors.
“Finally,” said Shemi, visibly relieved. “I was afraid Kiro wouldn’t be able to find you.”
“What’s this about?” asked Lem.
Shemi glanced over to Ferah.
“I leave it to you to explain the situation,” she said.
Shemi nodded and took a long breath. “There is a stranger in Vylari.”
Lem raised an eyebrow. “A stranger? What do you mean?”
“Someone has crossed over into our land,” he replied. “Someone from Lamoria.”
“What? How can that be?” No one had ever passed through the barrier. Everyone knew it was impossible to penetrate.
“We’re not sure,” said Shemi. “It’s happened only once before. At least that we know of.”
Lem didn’t know what to say. As shocking as it was, he couldn’t understand why this news had led to Shemi sending for him urgently in the middle of the night. “And this has something to do with us?”
Shemi nodded slowly. “Yes. I’m afraid it does.”
This was absurd. Once you passed beyond the border of Vylari, you could never find your way home—that was what protected the people from the threat of Lamoria, and prevented any who might wish to leave from divulging Vylari’s location. This lesson was passed on to every child by the elders; it was an absolute truth. Despite Shemi’s current assertion that it had happened before, as far as Lem knew, no one had ever tested the validity of the belief. No one had ever gone there. In fact, some speculated as to whether or not Lamoria even continued to survive. There were no strangers in Vylari, only people he had yet to meet. And should there be any doubt the barrier was real, the stories about the terrors of the outside world were sufficient to douse the flames of the more curious souls. Not even Shemi would have the courage to step beyond the border. This had to be a mistake. But the expressions on the two elders’ faces said that they thought otherwise.
“What do you know of your father?” asked Ferah.
This question stunned Lem nearly as much as the news of a stranger. “My father? Nothing. My mother never spoke of him.”
“Illorial was never a forthcoming woman. I did not know her well, but that much was clear. Still, you never thought to ask?”
“Of course I did. But she refused to say anything about him, so I stopped trying after a while. If she planned to tell me, she died before she could.” He turned to Shemi. “What’s this about?”
His uncle gestured to the door. “We should talk inside.”
Lem stood firm, waiting until Shemi and Ferah entered before following. They passed through the living room to the kitchen situated at the back of the house.
His father? Lem had always assumed that his father not being there was due to some scandal. It happened from time to time; though in his case, it was the mystery that set tongues wagging. No one knew who he was or what had prompted Illorial’s sudden departure and then her abrupt reappearance, belly heavy with child. She had refused to speak of it, becoming sad or sometimes angry when pressed on the matter. Shemi claimed not to know anything about him, though Lem was never completely sure he was being honest. There was a time Lem would look at the faces of men he met, looking for himself in their features, wondering if this were perhaps the one. He paid special attention to those to whom his mother spoke, hoping she would give something away in her tone or expression. But she never did. After her death, Lem had thought less and less about it. What did he care for a father who hadn’t cared for him? More importantly, why would anyone be interested in his parentage now?
They took a seat at the small table opposite an unlit stove. There was an actual dining room, but Lem and Shemi did little entertaining, and the east-facing windows in the kitchen gave a pleasant view of the sunrise, so this was where they ate most of their meals.
“Out with it,” Lem demanded. “Who is the stranger? What does it have to do with me? And why the interest in my father?”
“Ther
e has always been a mystery surrounding you, Lem,” said Ferah. “One which you are unaware of. One which until now has not been thought important enough to solve.”
“A mystery?” said Lem, coughing a sardonic laugh. “What? Because my mother had an affair? I’m not the only one in Vylari who doesn’t know who his father is.”
“True,” said Ferah. “But you are the only one whose mother crossed into Lamoria.”
Lem blinked several times, eyes darting back to Shemi. “This is a joke, right? Mother would have told me something like that.”
“This is not a joke,” said Ferah. “Your mother left Vylari. That alone is troubling, as we do not know what compelled her to do so. But her return was what had us most concerned. It is deemed impossible, and yet she managed it somehow. And while pregnant.”
“Well, if you think I know how she did it, you’re wrong,” Lem asserted.
“I do not,” said Ferah. “That much is clear. And in truth, I have been willing to dismiss it, until the stranger arrived. But he has. And that means Vylari is no longer safe. The barrier exists to protect us from the horrors of the outside world; without it, we are defenseless.”
Shemi gave Ferah a sideways scowl. “We don’t know the barrier has failed. Only that two people found a way through.”
Lem understood why Ferah was worried, which made Shemi’s irritation confusing. “You still haven’t explained what this has to do with me. I don’t know how it was done. I swear if I did, I would tell you. But I’ve never heard of any of this before.”
“I am not doubting your honesty,” said Ferah. “But I needed to be sure. A situation has arisen. The stranger’s arrival has brought more danger than I could have anticipated.”
“More danger?” repeated Lem, still unable to fully accept what he was being told.
The Bard's Blade Page 2