The Harpy's Song (Ëlamár Series Book 1)

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The Harpy's Song (Ëlamár Series Book 1) Page 26

by Logan Joss


  ‘You are forgiven. It is clear that you have been through a traumatic experience. And what may I call you?’

  ‘I’m Trevor.’ He felt the need to explain. ‘It’s just that where I come from, horses don’t speak. And I’m not quite sure what a bayard is.’

  ‘Where you come from? What a curious thing to say.’

  ‘You’ll probably think I’m mad, but I arrived here through some sort of wormhole…Ormostrious thought…though we can’t be sure exactly. Anyway, one minute I was in my world and the next minute I was in this one.’ Trevor paused, waiting for the inevitable mocking. But none came.

  Selmás nodded thoughtfully. ‘From which world was it that you arrived?’ he asked in a matter-of-fact way.

  ‘Oh!’ Trevor was surprised at the question. ‘Earth.’

  ‘Hmmm, I can’t say I’ve ever heard of it. But then again, there are so many worlds.’

  Trevor pondered this for a moment. He felt exhausted and overwhelmed—this world seemed to be getting stranger and stranger. ‘Thank you for looking after me, but I really need to find my friend now. He’s in trouble,’ he said, his heart starting to pound as he remembered what had happened. ‘He’s got no-one else. Only me.’ Panic started to rise within him and the pain in his left side returned, forcing him to lie back down on the pillow of soft leaves behind him.

  ‘All you need to do for now is rest.’ Selmás spoke firmly and then used his teeth to pull a large leaf across Trevor as a blanket. ‘If your friend is in trouble as you say, he will need you to be strong.’

  He? Trevor thought. No. She. Mèlli is a girl, isn’t she?

  It all seemed so far away.

  But how could I not have known? Or maybe I did. There was always something about Mèlli.

  With the image of Mèlli fixed in his mind, he drifted back into a deep sleep.

  ‘Mèlli!’ Trevor shouted and sat up with a start, pressing a hand firmly against his wounded side.

  ‘Mèlli?’ asked Selmás. He was lying down, relaxing in the mid-afternoon sun. ‘Is that the friend you mentioned? The one who is in trouble?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, she is in trouble.’

  Selmás indicated with a large hoof towards a cup-shaped leaf filled with water, which had been placed within easy reach of Trevor. ‘She?’ he questioned. ‘You said ‘he’ before.’

  Trevor sipped at the water gratefully. ‘Yes, he was a boy. But then I found out he was a girl.’ He heard the absurdity of his own words. ‘I know how it sounds. Maybe I should explain.’

  Trevor recounted all that had happened since he arrived on Ëlamár. From his awakening in the meadow at Burtlùs’ feet with Mèlli being thrown from the flying galleon, to Burtlùs and Freya, Ormostrious and King Somúlùs and their time in rus, the glÿmpse, their mission to retrieve a dragon’s tear to save the princess and their incredible rescue from Daknat’òr by the spirit of the woods.

  Selmás raised his eyebrows. ‘Ah, Gýella. It’s been a long time since I heard that name.’

  ‘And we saw a roc’ore!’ Trevor gushed with childish excitement.

  ‘Hmmm,’ said Selmás, nodding his approval. ‘A rare sight indeed.’

  Trevor finished with a description of their perilous river journey and their eventual capture by Sklõff. ‘Set a course for Aÿena,’ he muttered under his breath as he remembered Sklõff’s words. ‘So you see, I’ve got to go to Aÿena and rescue him. I mean her.’

  ‘And how do you intend to get to Aànemoy?’ Selmás asked with a mixture of respect and amusement.

  ‘Aànemoy? That’s the western continent isn’t it?’ Trevor remembered looking at the map in Ormostrious’ house. ‘Is that where Aÿena is? I don’t know. How far is it?’

  Selmás chuckled, a sound which resembled rolling thunder as it reverberated around his chest.

  ‘It wasn’t meant to be funny,’ Trevor said indignantly.

  ‘I do apologize, my young friend. I meant no insult. Such courage and loyalty are forgotten traits these days. To find one so willing to put their own needs aside to help another is most unusual. Yes, Aÿena is in Aànemoy. Though I am afraid the vast Western Ocean separates us from that part of the world. It is the largest on Ëlamár and to cross it is a most treacherous venture.’

  Trevor slumped with disappointment. ‘But there’s got to be a way and I’m going to find it. I’m not giving up on Mèlli. She would never give up on me.’ Trevor put a hand to his mouth, remembering her kiss, then quickly lowered it, embarrassed, as though his thoughts would betray him.

  ‘Do not fret. Of course there is a way, but that is a discussion for another time. For now, you must rest and recover—you can go nowhere until your wounds have healed.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘Rest. I must gather some supplies. We will speak more when I return.’ The bayard heaved himself to his feet and gave a vigorous shake that traveled down his body from his head to the tip of his tail, before trotting off gracefully into the forest.

  Trevor lay back and closed his eyes, feeling the still, warm air relax his body and lull him off to sleep.

  The sun was dipping below the horizon when Selmás returned, the dull thud of his hooves rousing Trevor from his slumber. Gently, the bayard placed a knapsack, fashioned from a large leaf, next to Trevor, who pulled himself upright and looked inside. It contained an assortment of fruit and nuts gathered from the woods and made Trevor’s stomach growl with hunger. It was then that he realized he’d had nothing to eat since the swrenburl berries back on the raft.

  Selmás saw the look of longing in the boy’s eyes. ‘Please, Trevor, help yourself. These are for you; I foraged as I went along.’

  Trevor began to eat, greedily at first, trying to banish the emptiness from his stomach. But after a few mouthfuls, he realized he needed to slow down, as it started to complain at the unaccustomed food. He leaned back against the tree and took a deep breath, before continuing at a more sensible pace.

  Having satisfied his hunger, Trevor relaxed and gazed around him for the first time. Looking back along the river, he saw the shadow of the mountain range where, only the previous day, he had unwittingly stood on the cliffs directly above the Harpy’s Song. It was there that he’d seen Mèlli for the last time. It was there that it had all gone wrong. He forced himself to look away, the pain too much to bear.

  He focused his attention instead on the two moons, shining brightly high in the sky. He held out his arm in front of him and positioned his thumbnail between the two luminescent discs, as Mèlli had shown him. She was right, they were getting closer together.

  ‘They’re beautiful, aren’t they?’ said Selmás, noticing Trevor’s interest. ‘Do you know the sad story of the two moons?’

  ‘No,’ Trevor said. ‘Mèlli promised a few times to tell me, but never got round to it.’

  ‘Would you like me to tell you? I’d understand if you’d prefer to wait and hear it from your friend.’

  ‘No, I think I’d like to hear it. I could do with the distraction.’

  Selmás came over and sat down beside Trevor, made himself comfortable and began to tell the story.

  ‘Ëlamár, like so many other worlds, was protected by the Watchers. These ancient benevolent beings oversaw the mechanisms of nature: the flowing of the rivers, the changing of the seasons, the replacement of old life with new. Phaèlia was responsible for the rising of the sun each morning and it was Telerón’s duty to ensure that it set every night. But these two Watchers were young and reckless and it was not long before they fell in love. In the heat of their passion, they forgot all time and left the sun blazing over the west, drying up its rivers and scorching its earth. By the time their carelessness was discovered, all that remained of the inhabitants of Aànemoy was burnt dust.

  ‘Although Telerón and Phaèlia were mortified by what had happened, they could not go unpunished. They were condemned forever to wander the skies as a reminder to all of the importance of duty. Where before there were no moons in the night skies of
Ëlamár, now there were two. Phaèlia became the smaller, pink moon and Telerón the larger, blue one.’ Selmás indicated towards the two moons with his hoof. ‘They will spend eternity within sight of each other, but never close enough to touch, save once in a millennium when they will approach each other and unite, just for a short time.’

  ‘That’s one of the saddest stories I’ve ever heard,’ Trevor said.

  Selmás regarded Trevor with admiration. ‘It has been almost a millennium since the last conjugation. It will not be long now before the two lovers meet again. It is said that the light produced by their union is quite spectacular.’

  ‘Have you seen it?’ Trevor said with awe.

  Selmás gave a deep, rolling chuckle. ‘I am old, my dear child, but not that old. The only creatures I know to live that long are roc’ores and dragons.’ He gave a sigh of remorse. ‘Of course, dragons may be extinct and roc’ores are creatures of few words.’

  Trevor thought about this for a moment. ‘May be extinct? What do you mean?’ he asked.

  ‘No-one has seen a dragon for a very long time. Although there are always rumors and stories being passed around, there is no definitive evidence for their continued existence.’

  ‘Ormostrious believes there is still a dragon in Borreós. That’s where we were going, like I said,’ Trevor said, looking at Selmás expectantly. ‘Have you ever heard about a dragon there?’

  ‘Ah, the Qilling. One of the oldest dragon legends. I have heard many different versions of the tale. But, alas, I have never met anyone who could prove the myth to be true.’

  Trevor looked crestfallen.

  ‘Remember though, just because something is not seen, does not mean it is not there,’ Selmás said cryptically. ‘There are parts of the North that are wild and desolate; some are nearly inaccessible.’ He yawned and stretched. ‘Well, it has been a long day and it is now time for me to rest.’ He closed his eyes and was soon snoring gently.

  For a while, Trevor contemplated what Selmás had said about the Qilling. If no-one else had managed to find him, what chance did they have? This thought drew his attention back to Mèlli. What if he was too late to save her? He felt as far from Mèlli as Telerón was from Phaèlia. He looked up at the two lost souls in the night sky, his heart yearning.

  Trevor slept restlessly, his dreams whirling with strange creatures and lost friends, and woke up the next morning half-expecting to see Mèlli in a bed beside him. But it was Selmás he saw, trotting back from the river dripping with water from his morning bathe. He couldn’t help but think that Selmás would have liked Mèlli—she always had something interesting to say.

  As he watched his friend walking towards him, he wondered to himself with amusement why he’d ever thought Selmás was a horse. Although he was the same general shape as a horse, he was much bigger. Bigger even than that enormous shire horse that Ruth had ridden at the county fair last year. And Trevor had never seen a horse that color. Selmás’ coat was plush silver-grey velvet that glimmered in the light of the sun. His mane was thick and silky and the color of ivory and hung down on both sides of his broad neck. And those eyes! They were like emerald fire and glinted with wisdom and intelligence.

  Selmás noticed that he was being watched and turned up the sides of his mouth, in what Trevor had come to realize was a smile. ‘Good morning my young friend. How are you feeling today?’

  ‘Much better thank you.’

  With a thud, Selmás dropped to the floor and began rolling around in the dry dirt, contorting his body and thrashing his legs from side to side in the manner of a child making a snow-angel. Trevor watched with open-mouthed amusement at this strange display and, as though some of Selmás’ energy had been transferred to him, he threw off his leafy blanket and staggered to his feet. He took a few shaky steps forward, holding his left side protectively.

  Selmás stopped his rolling at once and faced the boy. ‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’ he asked with concern.

  ‘If I lie down any longer my legs are going to stop working. I just need to stretch them for a moment.’

  The bayard stood up and walked beside Trevor. ‘Put a hand on my side to steady yourself.’

  He did so and the pair made their way slowly down to the river’s edge, where Trevor, tired from his exertions, sat down on a flattened boulder.

  ‘I was really lucky that you found me, Selmás,’ Trevor said, looking at the fierce torrent before him.

  ‘It was, in fact, most fortunate that I happened to be here that evening,’ Selmás said. ‘That morning I had a curious urge to visit the forest. I had awoken from dreams filled with the sweet aroma of pine sap. I tried to push it from my mind but was unable to do so, so I traveled here the great distance from the eastern shore.

  ‘After a pleasant day strolling through the forest and foraging on the delicious berries, I met a group of láelin fairies who were most excited and wanted to talk about the strange sights they had seen up in the mountains that day. Láelin fairies are known to be great chatterers and I ended up staying here much later than I had intended.

  ‘I was just going down to the river for a last drink of water before heading back when I saw you lying there. You were in such a bad way that, at first, I thought you were dead—you had been impaled by a branch and you seemed barely to be breathing. I pulled the stick out from your side, which caused you to gasp in pain so I at least knew you were alive. Then I dragged you up the shore into the shelter of the trees. The láelin fairies were very helpful—they flew to the top of the tallest trees to gather blossoms for healing and helped me to tend to you. And that is how we came to be in each other’s company.’

  ‘Wow, it was almost like fate, or destiny,’ Trevor said with wonder.

  ‘Destiny is a fickle thing.’ Selmás nodded sagely. ‘We never quite know when we will be dropped into someone else’s story, just at the right moment.’

  They sat in silence and contemplated this thought.

  ‘You said there was a way for me to get to Aÿena,’ Trevor said after a while.

  ‘That I did. It seems you are making a fast recovery so maybe it is time we had a discussion about your onward journey.’

  ‘Do you know someone with a galleon?’

  Selmás chuckled. ‘No. Something much better than that. I am going to take you to see my friend Gráfan.’

  ‘What’s he got that’s better than a galleon?’

  ‘She, my young friend, has wings.’ Selmás held his head high as he continued. ‘She is both ancient and wise. She is a lamassu.’

  29

  What Is A Lamassu?

  A LAMASSU?’ TREVOR asked. ‘What’s that?’

  Selmás gazed wistfully into the distance as he thought of his friend. ‘Lamassu were once held in high regard by the peoples of Ëlamár. After the departure of the Ëláryians, it fell upon these wise and beneficent creatures to advise the people. They sat on the councils of elders, always finding compromise where there was conflict; their wisdom guided generations along a peaceful path.’

  ‘I’ve heard this story before,’ Trevor said, jumping to his feet in excitement. ‘Mèlli told me.’ He took a few awkward steps towards Selmás. ‘What does a lamassu look like?’

  Selmás smiled, amused by Trevor’s enthusiasm. ‘I suggest you sit back down. You look somewhat unsteady.’

  ‘No, I’m fine, please contin—’ Trevor stumbled on the loose shingle and felt embarrassed that Selmás was right. He returned to his perch. ‘Please continue,’ he said meekly.

  The corners of Selmás’ mouth twitched as he fought back a laugh. ‘She is magnificent. She stands on four elegant legs and has a slender body covered with golden fur and large, powerful wings.’

  ‘I’ve seen a lamassu! Well, I saw a picture of one anyway. She had a human face.’

  Selmás looked confused. ‘Human?’

  ‘Oh. Like me.’ Trevor pointed to his own face, realizing his friend’s confusion.

  ‘Yes.’ Selmás nodded. ‘S
o you have seen one. And soon you will meet Gráfan in person.’

  Trevor sprang back to his feet, unable to contain his excitement. ‘When can we go?’

  Selmás chuckled heartily. ‘Patience. You need more time to heal and regain your strength before you can travel.’

  ‘How long is that going to take?’

  Selmás started to walk slowly back to the trees. ‘We’ll see how you are in the morning.’

  Trevor hobbled along beside him, steadying himself gratefully against the bayard’s solid body.

  Back at their camp, Trevor sat down on his bed of leaves. Selmás picked up a large hollowed-out nutshell and placed it in his lap. ‘A gift from the láelin fairies,’ he said. ‘It’s a healing ointment. Now that you are feeling stronger, you should be able to tend to your wound yourself.’

  Trevor took the pot and smelled the thick oily paste inside. The fragrance was sickly-sweet like overripe bananas. He put it down beside him and started to wriggle out of his ripped tunic, realizing with dismay how stiff and sore his muscles were. Tentatively, he examined his battered body. His torso was a mass of cuts and bruises and the wound in his side had been covered with a dressing made from soft bark. He peeled it off carefully.

  ‘Hmmm…that looks like it’s healing nicely,’ Selmás said, reassuring him.

  Trevor took a scoop of the ointment and smeared it liberally over the wound. It was cold but, surprisingly, didn’t sting at all.

  With a rush of memory, Trevor leaped up and hurried towards the riverbank as fast as he could, not noticing the pain. He looked around frantically, kicking at the shingle on the beach.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Selmás asked, starting after him.

  ‘I’ve got to find it.’

  ‘Find what? What is it you’ve lost?’

  ‘Mèlli’s pouch. She gave it to me to look after.’

  ‘Calm down—’

  ‘No! You don’t understand how important it is.’

  ‘Trevor, stop!’ Selmás shouted. ‘I believe I know what it is you are looking for.’

 

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