The Harpy's Song (Ëlamár Series Book 1)

by Logan Joss

  The king made it to his feet and staggered clumsily to the window. He opened it and let the cool night air sober him. ‘What is it Edùliph? I haven’t got time for this,’ he said impatiently.

  ‘Great news my liege. I’ve just heard from Nûnvl: the chanters will arrive in two days and they want to start right away.’ Edùliph didn’t stop to take a breath, ignoring King Somúlùs’ tearful eyes and his somber expression. ‘Your meeting with Cýrian was successful I assume? A bit of a celebration maybe? Is the wedding back on? Prince Olùmas and Viöla will be wed before you know it. Oh, what a union.’

  ‘Shut up you fool! There will be no wedding. Not soon, not ever.’ King Somúlùs marched towards the door, pushing his physician aside.

  ‘Sire, if it’s Viöla you’re fretting about,’ Edùliph continued, ‘I have great confidence in these chanters. Just wait and see. They’ve worked wonders, you know.’

  But the king wasn’t listening to a word that was being said. He pulled the cord that hung from the ceiling and waited for a knock at the door. A different servant stood there this time. She had the same uniform and an equally timid voice. ‘My lord?’ she said.

  ‘Get the consul. And bring me some fresh warm water—you can take that jug,’ the king said, pointing.

  The servant entered the parlor, mouse-like, and took the jug. ‘Yes, sir,’ she managed to squeak before hurrying out of the room.

  ‘My liege, what is it?’ Edùliph asked.

  ‘We’ll wait for Frèuitùs,’ the king said bluntly, turning his back.

  It was not long before Frèuitùs arrived, clutching the jug that the servant had taken, which was now filled with warm water. ‘Sorry it took so long sir, but the girl had trouble waking me,’ he said. Frèuitùs feared the reason for his summoning. ‘Has the princess worsened, sire?’ he asked, knowing that the real purpose of the meeting must be far worse. He poured the water into a wash basin and set the jug down beside it.

  The king removed his outer robes and splashed the warm water over his face.

  ‘Or was it King Cýrian? Did he come bringing ill tidings?’ Frèuitùs continued.

  ‘Of course they were ill tidings,’ Edùliph said. ‘What do you think we’re doing here so late?’

  ‘What are you doing here at this hour anyway, Edùliph?’ the king asked, confused, as if noticing him for the first time. ‘Oh, no matter. What I have to tell you will change everything.’

  King Somúlùs told the men of Cýrian’s warning, of Nirikö’s deceit and of how he had failed his people. ‘War has been creeping closer these past five moons and is now upon us. We are ill-equipped and low in numbers yet we have no choice but to stand and fight.’

  Edùliph looked taken aback and oddly guilty at the king’s words, but Frèuitùs, calmly placing a hand on the king’s shoulder, simply asked what he could do to help.

  ‘This morning you suggested I should summon Ormostrious,’ Somúlùs began. ‘It is too late for my daughter now, but Ormostrious’ knowledge may help to buy us some time and give the people a chance to reach safety. I want all women and children evacuated from the city at sunrise; the Southern Forest will offer the most protection. Put in place a curfew and, at dawn, have every able-bodied man and boy within half a day’s ride from the city walls report to the armory and made ready for battle.’ King Somúlùs gave his orders with confidence, but inside his heart sank in the knowledge that it was a futile display. ‘Edùliph,’ he continued, ‘prepare as many of the palace rooms as you think necessary to be used as sick quarters. Brief your people as you see fit.’

  Edùliph bowed silently and slunk away.

  ‘Sire, I will have a runner ready a carriage and bring Ormostrious here this night,’ Frèuitùs said. He gave the king an understanding nod and left.

  11

  Ormostrious

  AS THE SMALL group approached the cottage, its heavy, arched door with its wrought iron hinges towered above Burtlùs and Freya. It reminded Trevor of a church door except for a decorative, brass colored ornament at its center, which was shaped like a sleeping dragon with a long serpentine tail hanging downwards gracefully. As he approached, Trevor saw that the ornament was an elaborate door knocker; its head and tail were both on hinges. The dragon’s head was above Trevor’s height but the tail reached down lower, probably designed to be within easy reach of the average runian.

  Burtlùs grabbed the tail and gave three hard knocks, which echoed like gunshots around the clearing. Trevor waited with anticipation, butterflies dancing in his stomach. After a moment, the door creaked open to reveal the tall, imposing figure of Ormostrious dressed in mustard-colored robes. His puffy, white hair fell about his shoulders like cumulus clouds, framing a lined, weather-worn face, the evidence of his many experiments showing on his skin like deeply grained wood. His soft, brown eyes were partially hidden by unruly eyebrows and a pair of round spectacles, which sat upon his large, hooked nose. A long grey beard tapered to a point beneath his chin, and a thick mustache completely covered his mouth, which was revealed only when he opened it to speak.

  ‘Burtlùs, Freya, how very good it is to see you,’ said Ormostrious in a deep, bellowing voice.

  ‘I’m sorry to impose on you unannounced like this,’ Burtlùs said.

  ‘Nonsense. Nonsense. You’re always welcome here, and your young friends. It has been so long, too long in fact. Do come in and make yourselves comfortable.’ Ormostrious showed the group in and led them to some seats around a table, eyeing Mèlli suspiciously as the boy sat down.

  ‘Láven?’ he asked.

  Freya spoke for everyone when she said, ‘I think we could all do with something, please. It’s been a long day.’

  Burtlùs uncharacteristically offered to help Ormostrious with the láven and followed him across the room to the hearth.

  Trevor sat at the head of the table, scanning the room in wonderment. To his left was a door that was slightly ajar, revealing Ormostrious’ sleeping quarters beyond. The rest of the left wall of the room was covered with tall, dark, wooden bookcases stretching to the ceiling, packed full of tatty old books with worn, leather spines. The furthest portion of the room was lined with wooden benches, with every available surface occupied by a jigsaw of instruments, glass vials and beakers of every shape and size, joined together by long snaking tubes. They held liquids of every color, some of which were frothing and evaporating vigorously. Other benches held pieces of equipment so extraordinary that Trevor could not begin to fathom their function.

  On a separate table in the center, another experiment was bubbling away. Three glass flasks holding different colored liquids were being heated over burners. Glass tubes came from the top of each flask and carried the gases into a single spiral, which dripped its contents steadily into another heated flask. The steam disappeared through a spout into a small, metal container and, from here, small pieces of gold dropped out and fell with a clink into a pot below.

  On the right of the room was a large fireplace surrounded by a stone hearth, at which Burtlùs and Ormostrious stood. Ormostrious was ladling láven from a pot over the fire into tankards, which Burtlùs held up as high as possible for his tall host.

  ‘I’m sorry to impose on you like this, old friend,’ Burtlùs said in a hushed voice. ‘But we find ourselves in a situation that I feel only you can help with.’

  ‘As I said, it’s no imposition at all. It is always good to see you, Burtlùs,’ said Ormostrious. ‘This situation of yours, does it have something to do with the boy?’

  ‘Yes,’ Burtlùs said, taken aback by Ormostrious’ insight. ‘But I think he should tell you about it himself.’ They took the tankards of láven over to the table and Freya handed two of them to the boys. Burtlùs sat down and sipped at his láven while Ormostrious took the seat nearest to Trevor.

  ‘So who are these young friends of yours?’ Ormostrious asked, addressing Freya.

  ‘Well, that’s why we’re here. Both these boys have got themselves in a spot of bother,’
Freya began.

  Ormostrious glanced over the rim of his spectacles at Mèlli and eyed him quizzically. ‘Indeed,’ he said.

  ‘That’s Mèlli, but it’s Trevor we’re here about really,’ Freya continued. ‘You see, he’s come here from—’

  ‘Let the boy speak for himself,’ Burtlùs said, indicating to Trevor with his tankard.

  Trevor shifted uncomfortably in his chair. ‘I’m not sure where to begin,’ he muttered.

  Ormostrious waited patiently. ‘In your own time,’ he said.

  ‘Well, I’m not from this world. And I’m not sure how I got here.’

  Trevor paused and looked at Ormostrious, waiting for a snort of derision, but none came. Ormostrious simply nodded sagely and said, ‘Continue.’

  Trevor recited his story again. Ormostrious listened carefully, interrupting only to ask for greater detail. At the end of his story, Trevor slumped back in his chair and sighed. ‘And that’s it,’ he said, shrugging his shoulders.

  Ormostrious was silent for a while. He sat back in his chair, stroking his beard and gazing off into the distance. ‘Intriguing,’ he said finally. His eyes came to rest on Trevor. ‘I’ve only come across this phenomenon once before personally, but there has been much written about it.’

  These words gave Trevor a spark of hope and he sat up straighter in his chair to listen as Ormostrious explained his theory.

  ‘There is a school of thought amongst scholars, that whenever a spell is performed or a potion is used, stray wisps of magic remain. These remnants drift off into the world around us until they meet others like them and combine. Some believe that certain random combinations of these remnants can produce magical events, occasionally opening a doorway to another world.’

  ‘Ooh, like a wormhole,’ Trevor said.

  ‘Hmmm, I haven’t heard of that particular term, but yes, I can see how it would fit.’ Ormostrious stroked his beard absently.

  Burtlùs put down his tankard and leaned in closer. ‘So you can create one of these doorways?’

  ‘Alas my friend, no I cannot. No-one has ever successfully replicated the correct combination of magic to produce the effect.’

  ‘But you said you’ve seen one,’ Mèlli interjected with a challenging look.

  ‘Indeed I have, but I was little more than a boy at the time and did not understand what I was witnessing.’

  The group sank back in their chairs. Trevor felt deflated as his hopes of finding a way back home faded.

  ‘However,’ Ormostrious said, springing to his feet and wagging a finger knowingly. ‘There may be…’ He left his words hanging and strode purposefully around the table and then, without slowing, straight into a bookcase, vanishing through it.

  ‘He disappeared!’ Trevor leaped from his chair. ‘He just disappeared.’

  ‘Yes, he does that.’ Freya smiled.

  Mèlli tutted and said, ‘It’s just a manifestation spell.’ He got up out of his chair with a smug smile and walked over to put his hand through the bookcase where Ormostrious had vanished. But instead of disappearing, his hand met with a solid wall of books. Embarrassed, he tried pushing his hand against several different books before conceding defeat. ‘But…huh?’ he muttered, dumbfounded.

  At that point, Ormostrious swiftly re-emerged through the bookcase clutching a scroll and almost knocking Mèlli off his feet. He gave a backward glance over his spectacles at the boy. ‘Have you lost something?’ he asked absently and, without waiting for an answer, walked across and placed the scroll on the table.

  ‘That was amazing,’ said Trevor, his eyes wide with wonder.

  ‘Yes, quite,’ Ormostrious said simply. He unrolled the scroll and used the empty tankards to weigh down each corner. ‘There is something that I’ve come across in my studies that may be of use to you,’ he said. They all gathered round to look at the parchment, eagerly awaiting what Ormostrious had to tell them.

  ‘Everyone on Ëlamár has heard of the ancient Ëláryians,’ he said, raising his eyebrows at Burtlùs and Freya. ‘These days most people believe them to be no more than characters within the pages of books. I myself, however, prefer to think that they really existed in this world long ago, at least twelve millennia past.

  ‘As a young man, I traveled the world searching for evidence of their existence.’ His eyes became glazed as he remembered. ‘I did come across fragments of parchments but, unfortunately, these were so few that it has been difficult to piece together anything conclusive. I returned from my travels a young man no more. Ironically, it was upon my return to rus that I made the biggest discovery of all. I had been to see King Somúlùs, to speak with him about my travels and show him the parchments I found, when a glyph on one of the scrolls jogged his memory. He took me to a wing of the palace I’d never seen before and showed me something. There, locked away in a disused room, was an artifact that left no doubt in my mind as to its origin. It had been in the palace for centuries or more, but no-one knew how it had got there. I spent many years studying this artifact, but I could not find a way to activate it.’

  ‘But what was it?’ Trevor asked.

  ‘Of course. Of course,’ Ormostrious said, turning his attention back to the scroll before him. ‘I found this in the Great Library of rus. It was written by a scholar many centuries ago and speaks of a device, known as a glÿmpse, that has the ability to open doorways between worlds. I believe that the device described in the scroll is the same as the artifact in the palace.’

  ‘So it can get me home?’ Trevor said in excitement, looking at Ormostrious with childlike longing.

  Mèlli cut in. ‘Weren’t you listening, Trevor? He said it doesn’t work.’

  ‘No, no, I didn’t say that,’ Ormostrious corrected. ‘I merely said that I couldn’t activate it. It is my belief that the glÿmpse requires a key of sorts, an additional item, to activate it. You see, the ancient Ëláryians disappeared without a trace. The stories of old tell of how they vanished overnight. This scroll indicates that it is through the glÿmpse that they disappeared, leaving only one behind to deactivate it and close the door behind them forever. The key he used has been lost to the sands of time or perhaps deliberately hidden.’

  Freya, who had been listening quietly all this time, now said, ‘So we can’t use it after all? We don’t have the key.’

  Ormostrious stroked his beard thoughtfully. ‘It has been a long time since I have studied the glÿmpse and I have learned a great deal since then. Perhaps it is simply a matter of re-examining my research.’ He paused and straightened. ‘Perhaps the secret lies within their story,’ he said, before momentarily disappearing back through the bookcase and re-emerging with a heavy leather-bound book. He took his seat next to Trevor at the table, flicked through the book to the page that he wanted and began to read.

  12

  The Ëláryians

  IN A TIME before time, when the world was young and the people were at the mercy of the Watchers, there was one civilization that was favored: the Ëláryians. They were blessed with the knowledge of the Watchers and lived in comfort. They had learned how to farm the land, create fire and build stone houses while the other people of the world lived in squalor—hungry and cold.

  ‘The Watchers, pleased with all that the Ëláryians had achieved, granted them a single wish, but the Ëláryians had no need to use it, so content were they with their lives. Until, that was, in the grip of a harsh winter, the Ëláryians saw that others were not as fortunate as themselves. While they had been living in luxury, the other people of the world had been suffering.

  ‘Remembering their promise, the Ëláryians asked the Watchers to grant the people the ability to harness the power of nature to conquer hunger and cold. The Watchers were happy to grant the wish, but with a warning: the power of nature gives control not only over good but also over evil. This power, once given, cannot be revoked.

  ‘The Ëláryians, heedless of the Watchers’ warning, accepted the power on behalf of all the people. It was th
us that magic entered the world.

  ‘Centuries passed and the people of the world lived in harmony, the struggles of the past forgotten. The Watchers grew bored with the world and left it without a thought. Centuries turned into millennia and the magic grew as the people did. A time came when some, discontent with their fortunate lives, learned to manipulate the power of magic for wrongdoing. They used their new powers to steal from others and built fortresses to guard their riches. Before long, instead of living peacefully, the people of the world fought each other for wealth and power.

  ‘The Ëláryians watched in despair as the world they loved was destroyed by war. They called upon the Watchers to help once more but were met with silence. So, forsaken, they pleaded with the people to stop their fighting, but to no avail. Finally, overcome by frustration, they used their knowledge to create a new kind of magic, one so powerful that it would control all others.

  ‘They crafted an object into which they channeled all of this magic. The object would then bestow upon its bearer all of this immense power. However, others came to learn of their intentions and wanted the object for themselves. Realizing that they had repeated their mistake of eons past, and in the belief that their new magic could not be destroyed, they broke the object and scattered its pieces far and wide. Remorseful and full of despair, the Ëláryians created a doorway from this world, through which they left, never to return.

  ‘Only one remained, to seal the door behind them forever. All alone, he recorded the history of his people, in the hope that one day they would be remembered for the good they had tried to do. The key to their disappearance, and the remains of their once grand civilization, died with him.’

  Ormostrious gently closed the book and placed both palms upon its cover. He took a deep breath. A moment of calm silence filled the room.

  Burtlùs was the first to speak. ‘That’s an enchanting story, my friend, but it’s just that—a story. How’s all this going to help Trevor?’