Prelude (The Rhapsody Quartet)

by A. M. Hodgson

  “Okay,” I said, sitting cross legged on the floor in front of him. “How old are you?”

  “Pfft,” he snorted, dismissing the question. “You don’t want to waste one of the three on something like that. A freebie: I’m nineteen. My naming ceremony was just three years before your own birth date.”

  My eyebrows raised, “That’s all?”

  He nodded. “That’s all. Why? How old did you think I was? Do I look ancient or something? Are you saying I could be Aldan’s twin?” His mouth twitched. Glenn was fighting a grin.

  I shook my head. “No!” I pushed him playfully in the shoulder. “Not at all. But I don’t know the rules!” I laughed. “Besides, you’re a member of the Amaranth Guard. That seems pretty prestigious for a nineteen-year-old.”

  “Ahh,” he said, stretching out. “Now that… There’s almost a decent question in there, somewhere.”

  “Okay,” I said. “How is it that someone so young is on the Guard? And if you tell me that it’s totally normal for elves to be in distinguished organizations before they’re twenty, I’m going to be so mad,” I added, laughing, “that I’ll take my books away. You can do without.”

  “And how, exactly, would you uphold such a threat?” He grinned. “I’d take them back while you slept.”

  “I don’t believe it. You’re far too honorable.”

  “That,” he said, “is an accusation I’ve never heard before, and suspect I’ll never hear again. But, fair enough. No, it isn’t especially usual. Okay, then.” He scratched his chin. “Where to begin? Would you like the long answer or the short one?”

  “As it’s one of my three questions, I feel I deserve both.”

  “All right, all right,” he said, laughing and holding his hands up in a surrendering position. “The short answer is that I wasn’t really cut out for anything else.” He cocked his head to the side, as if he was trying to decide how to word the next part. “The long answer is that I failed— miserably, I might add— my spirit trial.”

  “What’s a spirit trial?”

  He smiled. “Perhaps that should count as your second question?” My mouth dropped open, and I let out an indignant yelp. “Alright!” he said with a laugh. “I can be generous. I shall pretend you didn’t ask me and instead explain it as part of the original question. Really, you’ll have to get better at this.”

  He sighed, collecting his thoughts. His face drew into a more serious expression. “When elves turn fourteen, we’re sent on a spirit trial. We’re given a small knife, the clothes on our backs, and dropped, alone, in the deadliest part of the woods, anabást. Elves require more physical sustenance there to survive than they normally would. In such an environment, the spirit is… sapped. You begin to think of nothing but your aching stomach, and time exacerbates the experience.

  “When our destination is reached, we’re supposed to stick it out until one of two things happen— death, usually from the poisonous flora, but occasionally from the creatures within, or we’re retrieved by another elf, at which point we’re assessed for our actions. We don’t know this before we take the test, but the judgment is fairly straightforward. We’re only told ahead of time to wait for someone to come for us. The most pious, the ones who sit and wait until they’re delirious with hunger and thirst— then continue to wait— are the ones who end up being our leaders. Those elves understand, more than the rest of us, control over one’s body and spirit.

  “For example, my Lady was left alone far longer than intended, yet she didn’t move from the spot where they planted her. She was abandoned and starving for nearly twice the usual time. Her first retrieval party had an incident with a poisonous creature requiring them to return to the village healers. When they finally returned for her, they were surprised to find she was both alive and still seated where she’d been left, having complete faith in our people.

  “Those destined to be healers might not sit still, but they’d use their knowledge of the forest to create teas and soothing tonics to help stave hunger. Those in the Amaranth Guard, her elite warriors, usually spend their days sanctifying wood from fallen branches and crafting it into arrows. In this way, they are useful to the whole village. Others might take runs or do other physical activities to distract themselves. There are additional results that are considered normal, but alas, my own trial had… erratic results.” He looked down towards the floor, a strange expression on his face. He didn’t quite look ashamed, but he didn’t look comfortable telling this part of the story— he was unsettled, I decided.

  Unsettled or not, he continued, “The knife they give you— you can use it to cut herbs, or craft, but usually... it’s for those of us who are so weak they’d rather just be done with it. Sorry, not weak,” he said, correcting himself quickly, “gentle. That’s the term we use.” I frowned. Sending kids out to potentially kill themselves sounded bleak indeed.

  Glenn continued, “I took that knife and cut out a limb from a tree, working the wood until I had this.” He tossed his bow over to me, and although it was large I was surprised at how light it was. I’d never looked at it closely before, but the whole thing was covered in carvings of plants and animals. Flowers, stags, trees, ducks… it was really amazing.

  “Then I took what was left of the branch and crafted an arrow. The next chance I got, I shot at a… well, let’s call it a deer. I cooked the meat over a small fire, and ate it.”

  I stared at him, confused. “How in the world is that a failure? It shows ingenuity, and willpower, not to mention resourcefulness—”

  He shook his head, “It shows cruelty towards the forest, and malice towards the animal, and selfishness.” He stared into my eyes. “So I did not go hungry. I took from the forest, first when I crafted the bow, again when I shot and killed the creature, and again when I gathered wood to create a fire.”

  “So you were placed on the Amaranth Guard? Isn’t that a reward?” I asked. I returned his bow. He gripped it tightly in his hands until his knuckles were white.

  “The rationale, my Lady said, was that if I was so bloodthirsty she’d use me as I used the forest. I would be tempered into a weapon, and used for good. My resourcefulness would be convenient in an emergency.” He sighed, and then a flash of bitterness crossed his features, “She was probably happy to be rid of me, truth be told, when you came along.”

  “That’s cruel.”

  “Not any worse than how I treated the forest.” He looked me in the eyes. “That’s one question down, two to go.”

  “I don’t think you were wrong,” I declared.

  “That’s a very human attitude,” he responded, nodding. “Maybe that’s why I like you so much.”

  “So Aldan was right, elves really are environmental?”

  Glenn laughed, “About as environmental as they come. It’s our sacred task… We can feel the world around us, the plants, the deer, the bears, even the bugs. When they thrive, we feel a deep inner peace. So we guard our surroundings carefully.”

  Marin entered the room. “You’ve got a private message from the council,” she turned to Glenn, “both of you.”

  “They’re already checking in?” Glenn mused. He shook his head, standing up, “Alright.”

  I glanced at him, “What do they want?” I was scared they’d found another home for me, scared I’d be shuttled off somewhere new. I hoped not.

  Glenn looked bored. “They’ll be wanting an update, that’s all. Come on, best not keep them waiting.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  Update

  Glenn and I leaned over the scrying pool, the figures of the council shadowy but all present and recognizable through the rippling water.

  “Glenn, report on your progress,” said a cold voice. I recognized it as the Lady of Flowers. Small morning glories were scattered through her hair today, her eyes matching the blue of the flowers.

  He answered stiffly, formally, “I have escorted the young lady to her tutor, but regrettably was not permitted to continue my service within
the confines of Aldan’s library.”

  The Lady wrinkled her nose, “Petty fool with his books. Continue.”

  “I let her enter the den for her lessons, which are usually brief, and she returns outside with new tomes to study. I have also been escorting her to and from human school to help maintain appearances, though it would appear almost pointless as humans will do anything she asks— including forgetting minor mistakes.”

  “Interesting.” This time it was Marin’s father. “I’d heard as much about sirens in the past, but I’ve never seen it in person. You confirm it works?”

  “Yes, sir,” Glenn continued, “In fact, we had her ask the school to ignore her almost completely, and they complied quite readily—” He hesitated. “It was your daughter’s idea, sir.”

  I was surprised to see the merman smile. “She’s a clever girl,” he said softly. “Good for her. You may continue.”

  “We have faced three threats to her life. The first, a blood wraith, though it has been some time, and I have submitted a report on the incident. As you are also aware, a hallucination was induced in the siren while she was in flux, causing her to damage herself. More recently, we faced a new attempt on her life. It was in the early evening. I investigated the threat and discovered a dozen centaurs outside of King Dorian’s Whitecrest estate, calling for blood. I eliminated the problem—”

  The centaur I’d met before interrupted, “He killed three of my herd! I demand justice!”

  “Aristos,” Amaranthe said, “I believe your men assaulted a siren who is under council protection. You knew, and therefore they knew, the risks before they set out. They should not have underestimated an elf from my own flock, particularly a member of my own guard.”

  He sneered but didn’t say another word.

  Glenn continued, “Regrettably, as Aristos pointed out, it was necessary to put down three of the herd.” He hesitated. “Aside from the attacks, all has been routine… except… last week, before the most recent attack, my charge evaded my watch for about 68 minutes of her own accord, so she could go on a private date.”

  Some of the council members laughed a little at this. Marin’s father smiled. “I am sympathetic to your plight, young man. At times I wonder exactly how diabolical the mind of a teenage girl can be.”

  I flushed, looking at the ground.

  Glenn sighed, “Nevertheless, we have spoken about the issue and have regained a common trust. Since then, she has met with the young man, now telling me where she was going and when she was coming home so I could be within range to protect her.”

  The Lady of Flowers nodded, as if she had decided for the whole of the council that this was satisfactory. “That’ll do, Glenn. Siren, step forward.”

  I sighed, “Yes?”

  “We have not yet found a suitable guardian for you, but we wanted to let you know we are looking.”

  “Waste of time,” muttered the vampire. “Who cares where she goes?”

  King Dorian shot him a steely glance and continued, “We have been looking for someone who has, at least somewhat, some knowledge of sirens, or at the very least has been shown to be capable. It has proved… challenging,” said the merman apologetically.

  I nodded, “I’ve heard that from Aldan. It’s difficult to find any information on my kind.”

  “Regardless, we’re doing our best. There are a few longer lived extras who may be an option, or perhaps one of the smaller clans of offshoot races will comply. With any luck, one will agree to the task, and we’ll be sending you on your way within the month. If it goes poorly, it could be much, much longer.”

  “Thank you, sirs, madams,” I said, trying to be polite.

  “As a side note,” Amaranthe said, “try to think of the ethical ramifications of dating a human being. You have power over this person all the time… it’s… a little sad… pathetic, actually.”

  I blushed again, wishing Glenn hadn’t mentioned that part in his report. I couldn’t be mad at him, though, because I knew they expected him to be thorough.

  “Best of luck to you, and we hope to be contacting you soon to resolve your guardian situation,” said the man in the fire, sounding bored.

  The pool went dark, and I looked up at Glenn.

  “Sorry,” he said, “about the whole date thing. But if I didn’t tell them now, it’d be worse when they found out.”

  I shrugged, “I don’t think it mattered in the long run. If they want to laugh at me, they can laugh.” I yawned, tired from the events of the day. “I’m heading to bed,” I announced.

  When I got there, despite my exhaustion, I had trouble sleeping. I kept catching movement from the corners of my eyes. Eventually, I asked Glenn to pull his chair closer to my bedside so I could see him as I slept. He complied, not even asking me why I was suddenly acting skittish.

  When I finally fell asleep, my dreams were plagued with nightmares. In them, I was back home at Susan and Rick’s house, and I was singing freely and happily, dulcimer in hand. I looked at my foster parents. As they listened to the song with maniacal smiles on their faces, the flesh on their heads began to melt off in large chunks until there was nothing but grinning skulls.

  I woke up in a sweat, the alarm about to go off.

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  Songs & Consequences

  I was in Marin’s bedroom, surrounded by windows, soft pink walls, and white linens. She was modeling clothes for me, striking various poses in different outfits. I was incredibly bored, lying on my stomach with my head resting in my hands.

  She strode out in a white sun dress, her hair down and flowing, accented by a headband that was loaded up with seashells and sand dollars and starfish. She cocked her head to the side and did a quick twirl.

  “Well?” she asked.

  I shrugged, making my head bob up and down, “That one’s good, too.”

  She jerked her head over one shoulder, looking in the mirror. She crumpled her face, “No. Definitely not.”

  I groaned, leaning into the white comforter of her bed. It was the seventh dress she’d tried on so far.

  She peeled out of it, and there was a knock on the door.

  “Come in!” she chirped.

  I blushed, feeling embarrassed for her. Marin was practically naked, but neither she nor the maid who entered seemed to care.

  “A letter, from your father,” said the maid, handing her another thick envelope. The paper wasn’t so shimmery as before, and the seal was turquoise on this one.

  Marin frowned, pursing her lips. She nodded at the maid dismissively, “Thank you.”

  After tearing it open, her eyes skimmed over the words quickly. She heaved a huge sigh and wadded the whole thing up, tossing it into a wastebasket in the corner. She smiled up at me. “Okay. I think I’ll try something more fall-like,” she said, digging into her closet and returning with an orange halter dress.

  “What was that about, Marin?” I asked her, gesturing towards the letter in the trash.

  She sighed, pulling on the dress and tying it behind her neck, “Nothing. Mermaid business. Politics.” She crinkled her nose, “Boring stuff.”

  “But it seemed like you—”

  She narrowed her eyes, interrupting, “It wasn’t anything important. It’s the same sort of nonsense my father always tries to pull. Everything’s fine, though.”

  I pushed myself upright so I was sitting cross-legged on her bed. I wondered what the letter said, and was somewhat tempted to fish it out of the trash and read it… but it was Marin’s business, and if she didn’t want to share, I wouldn’t pry.

  I leaned forward. “The orange is pretty,” I offered lamely. “It makes your skin look more tanned.”

  She peered into the mirror with scrutiny, “But maybe it’s too formal?” She glanced at me. “What are you wearing?”

  I stared down at myself. I hadn’t planned on changing. I was wearing jeans and the blouse of the day— a black, asymmetrical one-shouldered number with a single long sleeve and a s
quare neckline.

  I gestured sheepishly to myself, “This?”

  She raised a brow, then groaned. “Why didn’t you tell me that before, Sarah?”

  Because I hadn’t realized it made a difference. I hoped she wasn’t going to start worrying about dressing me. This was one of my prepackaged outfits, after all.

  I glanced into the mirror behind her. I thought I looked pretty good, but I didn’t really have days where I didn’t think I looked nice anymore. My hair was down, my loose waves brushing against my shoulders, the blouse flattering to my figure.

  Marin shook her head. “You were going to let me go way, way too formal for this date if that’s what you’re wearing.” She frowned, digging through her closet again.

  I sighed, wondering if I’d just condemned myself to even more time watching her mock fashion show. I leaned back onto the bed, frowning.

  I felt conflicted about this whole situation, anyway. I was excited to see Score again, but the prospect of being around other people, keeping up the charade of being ‘Sarah’ and ‘Will’ sounded overwhelming. When I was with him, the best part was that we could relax and just be ourselves.

  Additionally, I had absolutely no desire to be around Cody. I had no doubt at all that he’d fall instantly under my spell, and I didn’t have a way to prevent it.

  “Hmm…” Marin said after a while, “maybe this? Or this one?” She pulled out about six different blouses, and I groaned.

  I slid my phone out of my pocket, checking the time, then looked up at her. “Marin, we need to leave in less than half an hour,” I reminded her.

  I wasn’t sure what the plan was, but I’d received a text from Score letting me know what time he would be ready. I was supposed to be meeting him, then we’d join up with Marin and Cody shortly after.

  She flapped a hand at me. “Well, you can go whenever you want!” she snapped. “If he’s dating me, Cody can wait.” She glanced at me, “And it wouldn’t hurt to make Will wait, too.”

  I laughed, “That’s not really my style, Marin.”