A Chorus of Fire

by Brian D. Anderson

  Mariyah turned her back and pulled her knees to her chin. “Did you enjoy it?”

  “No. But after a time, I stopped feeling any particular way about it. Each name I was given was a task; nothing more than that. I knew I should have felt something—sorrow, guilt, rage. But I didn’t. It was as if something inside me was broken.”

  Lem reached out to touch her, but pulled back at the last second. It was as he’d feared. As it must be. She now saw him as he saw himself.

  “I need time to think,” she said, then rose to her feet.

  Lem could only watch as she walked with slow despondent steps to the top of the next rise. She looked over her shoulder, then lowered her head and continued until gone from sight.

  There was a sense of justice that shouted at him from the mouths of his murdered victims. You deserve this, they said. You deserve to have nothing. To be left alone with your misery. In the wind he could hear their mocking laughter.

  * * *

  “Lem.”

  He had dozed, exhausted from their ordeal. Mariyah was sitting beside him, caressing his hand and smiling warmly. At first he thought he was dreaming. How could she look at him that way after what he’d told her?

  “I’m sorry to wake you,” she said. “But I need to tell you something.”

  Lem’s muscles did not want to obey as he rose to a seated position. His strength was drained, more so than he could recall ever before. “You’re back.”

  “Of course I am.” She brushed the hair away from his face with her fingertip. “You didn’t think I would leave you?”

  “I thought…” He could not bear to look her in the eyes. “After what I told you…”

  “That I would hate you? Lem, I could never hate you.”

  “But after what I’ve done, how could you not?”

  Mariyah took his hands and examined them, tracing the lines on his palms and the contours of his knuckles. “I tried to imagine these hands taking a life. The beauty they create when you play … I couldn’t reconcile it. I’d heard the High Cleric had appointed a new Blade of Kylor. Loria—Lady Camdon—she has informants in the churches and temples around Lamoria who tell her when something important happens. As I walked, I thought about what it must have been like for you, serving the High Cleric in a cause not your own. Committing acts completely against your nature.”

  “But were they?” he said. “It came so easily to me. When Farley and I met, he noticed that my hands don’t tremble. I’ve seen people who have never killed hold a weapon. I wasn’t like that.”

  “So your hands don’t shake,” she countered. “That means nothing.”

  “It’s not just that. I think like an assassin. And now that I’m aware of it, I know that I always have.”

  Mariyah reflected on this. “I can see why you might think so. To do what you’ve done, you would need to be methodical, calculating, patient, and employ a creative and improvisational mind. But hasn’t it occurred to you that these are the very same traits that make you a good musician?”

  Lem gave her a sideways frown. “It’s not the same thing.”

  “No,” she conceded. “But if you think about it, both require the same type of person.”

  “Musicians don’t go around killing people.”

  Mariyah kissed the back of his hand. “Only because they lack the motivation. That’s what sets you apart. You say your hands don’t shake when you kill. Well, I remember the first time we met. You sat in front of your friends, terrified that they would not like your playing. Did your hands shake then? Or don’t you remember that day?”

  “Of course I do,” he replied. “I’ll never forget it.” At last he was able to look at her. “It was the best day of my life.”

  “And mine.”

  Lem could see her as that young girl, heedless of what her friends thought or what her parents might say. The woman she had become … Mariyah had changed in many ways since that time, but she was still the girl he’d known then.

  “You want to know what I was thinking about when I left?” she asked. Lem nodded. “I was trying to find a way to beg your forgiveness.” Before he could object, she placed her hand to his mouth. “You left Vylari to protect me. You became an assassin to free me. You killed again and again, mindless of what it was doing to your spirit … for me. And you think I would reject you? That my love for you would change?”

  At last tears welled in Lem’s eyes. “But it was my fault that you left.”

  “That’s ridiculous. There was no fault. You were destined to leave. We both were. Even if that’s not true, and there is no destiny, Belkar would have eventually found Vylari and destroyed it anyway.”

  “But you would have not been put through the nightmare you suffered by coming here,” he said. The image of her caged and abused, sold into bondage like chattel, would not leave him. How many times had she called his name, begging for him to find her?

  “It would have been a different nightmare. Had we stayed in Vylari, we would have been sheltered a while longer, it’s true, but it would not have prevented the inevitable from happening. Belkar would have come, and we would have had to watch everyone we love cut down or turned into mindless shells, forced to serve a monster. That we left at least gives us a chance to fight. Lem, we both have suffered; you so much more than I. My freedom was taken. But so was yours. At least I was able to free myself from bondage. You’re still a captive. And what breaks my heart is that I’m your jailor.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “Why not? It’s true. You’ve been trying to save me from the beginning. Everything you’ve done has been because of your love for me.” She cradled his face in her hands. “And you did. You saved me. In my darkest hours, there was always you to keep me from falling into utter despair. There was always the hope of seeing you again. That allowed me to press on even when I thought I couldn’t.” She wiped his tears. “I should have never sent you away that night at the manor.”

  “I understand why you did it.”

  “I know. And at the time, I thought I was right. I thought by sending you away I was protecting you. I didn’t know what…” She could not finish the sentence.

  “It’s all right. You did what you thought you had to do.”

  “I hate what I did to you. I hate what you had to do. Most of all I hate that I see the stain it’s left on your soul.” She sat up and cleared the sorrow from her voice. “That ends now. You saved me, Lem. Now I will save you.”

  “How?”

  “First, you will fulfill your promise,” she stated with the confidence of a woman who knew precisely what she wanted and how to go about getting it.

  Lem cocked his head, confused. “What promise?”

  “You are my betrothed, are you not?”

  Lem was momentarily speechless and blinked several times before answering. “Yes.”

  “Then I am bound to you and you to me. Which means that your sins are mine. The harm you’ve done to your soul is harm to my own. And that I will not allow to continue.” She rose steadily and planted her hands on her hips. “If it takes the rest of our lives, I will make us whole again.”

  Lem stood and smiled. She was being playful, and yet she meant every word. “There’s one promise I need you to make: Never send me away again. No matter what happens, we face it together.”

  “You have my word,” she replied, and stepped in close to whisper in his ear. “There’s something I want to show you.”

  The heat of her breath on his neck, her lips brushing across his cheek as she stepped away, sent a wave of desire coursing through him.

  Mariyah turned to face a small cluster of rocks a few yards from the path. “This is what I’ve been learning.” She spread her hands and began to chant almost inaudibly. Lem found the rhythm and timbre of her words musical, and a melody instantly popped into his head as she spoke them. Her hands turned and swayed, like tree branches caught on a strong wind, eliciting images of a dance, though one he had never seen before.

>   Lem jumped back as the rocks slowly began to change form. Like potter’s clay, they melded together, at first a shapeless mass, then gradually the edges sharpened to corners and the sides stretched flat. A house. She was making a house … with magic! Well, not exactly a house—a small shelter. Still, Lem was dumbstruck as a door and two tiny windows appeared.

  Beside the structure, the ground began to sink to a shallow bowl roughly ten feet in diameter. Steam rose as hot water filled it from below, as if it were being fed by an underground spring.

  Mariyah took a long breath, then gave a satisfied nod. “That’s more appropriate for our reunion, don’t you think?”

  With guarded steps, Lem approached the water but stopped short of touching it. “How is that possible?”

  “You’ll find that many things are possible.”

  Lem was shocked from his stupor as Mariyah’s unclothed form brushed by and stepped into the newly created pool. He could not peel his eyes away as she immersed herself, tilting her head back and then running her hands over her face and down her hair. They had never been intimate. While it was not uncommon in Vylari to consummate a relationship before marriage, they had decided to wait until after they were wed.

  Mariyah grinned at his embarrassment when she noticed him staring and quickly averting his eyes.

  “I’ve decided we shouldn’t wait,” she said, grinning puckishly. “I hope you don’t object. I know how traditional you are.”

  “No. I mean, yes. I mean I don’t want to wait either.” He opened his mouth to speak again, then paused, lowering his head to let out a self-deprecating chuckle. “Listen to me. I sound like a nervous teenager.” He removed his clothing under Mariyah’s approving gaze. He had always felt an unusually strong sense of modesty, but no longer.

  He slipped into the pool and sucked his teeth at the shock of the hot water. He dipped his head in to find Mariyah had moved in closer when he reemerged. She draped her arms around his neck and pressed her body hard to his.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to wait until we are officially wed?” Lem teased.

  “Are you?” she answered, punctuating her words with a light yet seductive kiss. Mariyah leaned slightly back and met Lem’s eyes. “Do you think we’ll ever see Vylari again?”

  “After today, I believe anything is possible.”

  They kissed as if the world around them had ceased to exist and they were the only two people alive. And at that moment, they were.

  As Mariyah eventually led him from the pool and into the tiny home she had built for them, he knew that he would never leave her, and that she would never ask him to. For good or ill, they were bound. That day, in each other’s arms, they found a simple truth. Mariyah had been right when she told Lem the stranger who came to Vylari and set everything in motion had come for her. But it was also true that he had come for Lem. They were one, and had been from the day they met, and would be until the day they died. If that death was to come at the hands of Belkar, so be it. They would face him hand in hand, defiant and without fear. Lem and Mariyah. Like in the days of the ancients. A Thaumas and a bard, joined in mind and spirit. A bond not even Belkar could break.

  End Book Two: A Chorus of Fire

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  My wife, Eleni, and son, Jonathan; Donna and Sarah Anderson; George Panagos; the DiBattista family; the Ramos family; Bob and Bobbye Anderson; Heather and Heidi Post; of course Helen and Kristie; James and Mindy Inman; Felix Ortiz for yet another awesome cover; Lindsey Hall (the best editor I could have dreamed of working with); the marketing, publicity, and production teams at Tor; Laurie McLean (my fantastic agent); George Stratford; Dorothy Zemach; my friends at Strick’s (better known as the Land of Misfit Toys) for letting me ramble when I need to take my mind off work; Ted Perdue (a man who in sixty years never lost his love of the fantastical); Steven Savile (for all the advice); Jacob Bunton (while we rarely see each other, you’re always in my thoughts); Brian Held; Owen Cotter; Adam Atmore.

  A special thank-you to all the fans who have stuck by me throughout the years. Without you, there are no new stories for me to write. My inspiration comes from knowing I provide a few hours of joy in what can at times be a very difficult life.

  ALSO BY BRIAN D. ANDERSON

  The Bard’s Blade

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  BRIAN D. ANDERSON is the author of bestselling, self-published series, The Godling Chronicles and Dragonvein. He lives in Fairhope, Alabama, with his wife and son. You can sign up for email updates here.

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  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication

  Map

  1. Too Much Glamor

  2. Confessions and Portents

  3. Dreams, Riddles, and Fire

  4. Callahn

  5. The Bard’s College

  6. The High Order of Kylor

  7. Magic, Ego, and Vengeance

  8. Scars, Hate, and Acceptance

  9. Fight, Flight, and New Books

  10. Ransom and Prayer

  11. Lessons and Fury

  12. Whispers and Death

  13. The Siege of Spirit Masters

  14. Old Friends and New Adventures

  15. Heroes and Bandits

  16. With Friends Like This

  17. The Blade and The Blade

  18. This Man, This God

  19. A Hint and A Prayer

  20. Wards and A Cup of Tea

  21. The Gate

  22. The Blade of Mariyah

  23. A Spell for Mariyah

  24. A Shadow Falls

  25. Home Fires are Burning

  26. The Choice

  27. Confessions

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Brian D. Anderson

  About the Author

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  A CHORUS OF FIRE

  Copyright © 2020 by Brian D. Anderson

  All rights reserved.

  Map by Rhys Davies

  Cover art by Felix Ortiz

  A Tor Book

  Published by Tom Doherty Associates

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  The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

  ISBN 978-1-250-21466-9 (trade paperback)

  ISBN 978-1-250-21465-2 (ebook)

  eISBN 9781250214652

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  First Edition: August 2020