SongMaster's Realm

by Wolfram Donat

  “Great,” said the Ramiken. “How does that help us?”

  “Well, it doesn’t,” replied Joel. “Not that I can see. Actually, it just adds to the mystery. What are those symbols doing on a world that doesn’t know music? Like that Duke’s insignia that Fender was showing me – that had no business here, either. Something weird’s going on.”

  J’Mart snickered. “What was your first clue? Was it walking between worlds and listening in on an argument between two gods, or was it later?”

  Joel looked at him. “Actually, it was earlier, when all of the clocks in my apartment kept stopping for no reason. And now two weeks later I’m here trying to save the multiverse. Go figure. But all this does make me realize that there’s a reason it had to be me who saves the book. Nobody else in this world would even know what those symbols are, much less be able to read them. I don’t know how they’re supposed to help, though.”

  “Okay, so we’ve decided that there are clues here which we can’t solve. What now, hero?”

  “I guess we explore the hallway,” said Joel, shrugging. “I’m expecting that spooky girl to show up any time now, but I can’t say that I’m looking forward to it. After all, the last time I saw her she tried to kill me.”

  “Yeah, but you’ve got me here again. I’ll protect you, little buddy.” Coming from the twelve inch-tall J’Mart, this sounded pretty humorous, and Joel couldn’t help smiling.

  “All right,” he said, squaring his shoulders. “Let’s see what’s in this place. But I can’t help thinking I’m forgetting something.”

  “Perhaps the fact that you should hurry?” asked J’Mart.

  “Yeah, that’s it. Seems like I should be worried about something, but I can’t remember what.”

  The Ramiken leaned over and practically yelled in Joel’s ear. “Maybe you need to hurry to save your friends’ butts outside!”

  It all came flooding back in a hurry. As if waking from a dream, Joel remembered that his friends were fighting to keep the goblins away from this odd building while he idly chatted with J’Mart. “My God! What the hell’s going on with me? How could I forget?”

  J’Mart shook his head, a concerned look on his face. “I sense a deep magic here, and I don’t like it. I think we need to find the Duran and finish this business as fast as we can, and not just to save your girlfriend’s butt.”

  “Agreed,” said Joel. He looked down the hallway. “In the dream, the girl goes into that doorway at the far end. Let’s check in there.” The little man didn’t answer, so he started walking.

  The hall did seem to be bigger than he had thought. He was walking quickly, almost jogging, but he didn’t seem to be nearing the far door as fast as he should have been. He looked at J’Mart. “Is the distance in here weird as well?”

  The little man nodded. “More deep magic, and I just figured out why. This hallway spans dimensions.”

  “What?!”

  “Yup. My guess is that each one of those doors we’re passing leads to a different dimension. This is no ordinary castle, or whatever you want to call it. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, this hallway is a lot bigger on the inside than it is on the outside.”

  “So how do I get to the end?”

  “Just keep running. It’s the only thing I can suggest for now. It does seem to be getting closer, after all.”

  Ten minutes later Joel came to a halt, panting. Walking, jogging and even running had failed to bring them any nearer to the door at the end of the hallway, though they had passed a seemingly endless number of doors on the way there. “At this rate, I’m never going to reach it,” he said to J’Mart. “It’s not getting any closer.”

  The Ramiken shrugged. “Maybe it takes magic to reach it. Maybe it’s time to break out the music machine.”

  “I think you’re right.” Joel unslung his guitar and brought it around. The air in the hallway was warm, and it was getting difficult to think. “What do you want to hear? How about a love song? Or a little jazz?”

  J’Mart looked at him, his eyes wide. “How about a little REACH THE DOOR SO WE CAN SAVE THE WORLD ditty?” he said loudly.

  Joel’s head cleared almost immediately, and he clapped a hand to his forehead. “I’ve got to stay focused. How long have we been in here, anyway?”

  “Too long. As they say in your world, get your shit together. We need to get through that door.”

  Joel only thought for a moment, and then started to play. Tom Cochran’s Life is a Highway jumped into his mind for some reason, and it flowed easily from his fingers. There was an instantaneous change in the atmosphere in the hallway. It got cooler, and the lights and colors from Joel’s guitar seemed like a breath of fresh air.

  As he played, Joel started walking again. It was as if J’Mart had known exactly what was needed; they immediately began gaining ground on the far door. Color streamed from the guitar and headed straight for the door, at which point it dissipated, perhaps unable to penetrate the door. Joel continued to play as he walked, and they approached the door quickly. The pattern of musical notation repeated itself on the floor tiles, and began to repeat randomly after a time.

  They were perhaps twenty yards away when the last door on the left opened suddenly, swinging inward and showing only an inky blackness on the other side. Joel froze, and his magic floated away, temporarily forgotten.

  There was a blast of cold air from the open door. The air swirled around Joel and J’Mart, and then coalesced into a fog. There was a sound like wind rushing through the trees, and Joel smelled sawdust. Before he had a chance to puzzle on the unusual smell, the fog swirled around a point in the hallway and grew very dark. There was a ‘crack!’ and the fog disappeared, to be replaced by a young girl who looked to be about thirteen years old. It was the girl from his dream.

  Joel recognized her at once, though the manner of her appearance threw him off his stride. “Hel- hello?” he stammered, then cursed himself. Idiot! Not the way to sound like a brave wizard, come to save the day!

  The girl, who had been facing the door Joel and J’Mart had been trying to reach, slowly turned at the sound of his voice. She smiled, but any reassuring effect her expression might have had was lost when he saw that, as in his earlier vision, she had no pupils. She didn’t seem to be blind, however, for she looked directly at him. She also noticed J’Mart, and looked at him expressionlessly for a long moment before returning her gaze to Joel.

  “You are the SongMaster?” Her voice was like icicles, and Joel felt goose bumps rise on his arms.

  With great effort, he controlled the quaver in his voice. “Yes. Who are you?”

  She smiled again, the way a little girl might if you asked her if she thought her teacher was cute. “Me? I’m Malia, of course. Who did you expect?”

  “Well, I’m not sure what I expected, exactly. What are you doing here, Malia?”

  J’Mart leaned over and whispered in Joel’s ear. “Something’s not right about her, mate. Watch yourself.” Joel had already made that determination, and he nodded.

  She frowned at the sound of the Ramiken’s voice. “I don’t like that creature on your shoulder. Make him go away.”

  Joel furrowed his brow. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Malia. He’s my friend. But tell me,” he repeated. “What are you doing here?”

  She actually giggled. “Oh, I live here.”

  “Where are your parents? Are you all alone? How long have you been here?”

  The girl shook her head. “So many questions. You know, I should be asking you questions. You are in my house, after all.”

  He looked around, his thoughts racing. “So this is your house. And you’ve been here a long time?”

  She frowned, a pouting expression that Joel didn’t like at all. “No, only a little while. My friend brought me here and said he’d be back, but he never came back. He said he would read me.”

  Joel stiffened. “I’m sorry. He said he would read to you?” A strange thought was beginning to occur to
him.

  “No. He said he would read me.”

  Joel looked at J’Mart, who shrugged. “Are you connected to the Duran, somehow?”

  She giggled. “You’re funny, SongMaster. Of course I am. I am the Duran. What else would I be?”

  No longer afraid, but growing steadily more confused, Joel rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “What do you mean, you are the Duran? I thought the Duran was a book.”

  “It is,” she replied. “An old, very powerful book. And it is also me. You see, you can’t contain that much power in leather and vellum, binding and pages, without it growing a spirit of its own. I am the power of the Duran given a life, and I have been alone for many millennia.”

  “So how did you know who I am?”

  She laughed, and once again Joel didn’t like the way it sounded. “SongMaster, you have been expected for a long time. Far longer than you have been alive.”

  “I see.” His thoughts racing, he strummed a chord. Faint lights gathered around his fingers, and her sightless gaze whipped toward his guitar.

  “Don’t do that,” she hissed. “This is not the time or the place for your magic.”

  “Sorry,” he said. He stopped playing, but didn’t remove his hands from his guitar. “Did Magir create you as well, or did you just evolve from the magic?” This girl is making my spider-sense all loopy.

  “Enough questions,” she said. She held up a hand, as if dismissing all further inquiry. “I would like you to see me now.” Without another word, she turned the knob to the last door, and it swung open silently.

  Beyond was a small chamber, almost exactly how Joel had dreamed it so many times. About ten feet square, it was empty except for a wooden pedestal exactly in the center, and on that pedestal rested a large book. It was bound in what looked like leather, and was almost plain except for some faint golden writing etched into the front cover and along the spine.

  Joel knew instantly that the book was the source of the powerful humming he had noticed coming from the building. It throbbed with power, and seemed to be breathing in a way that made him extremely uncomfortable.

  “So there it is, eh?” said J’Mart, quietly. “Kind of expected more, I did.”

  Without answering, Joel stepped forward into the room, following Malia’s lead, and looked around, trying to pay attention to what else was in the room. Along with the floor tiles, the musical motif was continued in tapestries on three of the walls. There were bits and pieces of manuscript embroidered on them, and Joel thought he recognized a few of the pieces.

  It was the fourth wall, opposite the door, however, that drew his attention. It was just like a mirror from floor to ceiling, with two important exceptions. For one thing, it was glowing, and pulsing faintly with a blue light that made Joel’s stomach a little queasy.

  For another thing, it reflected everything in the room perfectly except for Malia. She was conspicuously absent in the room’s reflection. If Joel hadn’t been looking at her, he never would have known she was there.

  She had been studying the book on the pedestal, but then she turned and looked at him. “I am here,” she said imperiously.

  He stepped forward to the pedestal. “May I?” he asked, reaching for the book.

  She nodded. Taking a deep breath, he opened the cover.

  Immediately all of the pieces fell into place. All of his doubts and all of his uncertainty that Massar had picked the wrong person fell away as he looked at the first page of the Duran and saw the last thing he had expected to see:

  Music.

  There were no words in the book at all. The Duran was filled, cover to cover, with musical notation, written in a fine, spidery script. In disbelief he paged through the book, looking at random pages. There were about a hundred thick, handwritten pages altogether, and all had music. It was technically difficult, but not exceedingly so, and was written in a dark, minor key. If it were to be played, it would be a somber tune.

  On his shoulder, J’Mart chuckled, a sound that felt very out of place in that chamber. “So that explains it, music man. Maybe Massar wasn’t out of his gourd after all, choosing you. Not that I had any doubts.”

  No sooner had he spoken than Malia whirled, her face contorted in a scowl. “You may not be here!” she hissed loudly. “You must GO!” With the last word, she raised her hand and pointed at J’Mart. Power crackled from her fingertip and arced across to the Ramiken, knocking him off Joel’s shoulder. He hit the wall behind Joel and froze there, suspended by the beam of light streaking from her finger.

  “Hey!” yelled Joel. “What are you doing? I told you, he’s my friend!” As he watched, the Ramiken was struggling to extricate himself, but was having no luck.

  “He does not belong here,” said the girl, her voice belying no effort on her part. “This is a place of power, not for the likes of him.” There was a pulse of power from her finger again, and J’Mart’s struggles increased. It looked to Joel as if he was fighting to stay corporeal and solid.

  Then without warning, the little man blinked out of existence. Joel turned on Malia, fingers forming a chord as he did.

  She held up a hand, forestalling his playing. “Peace, SongMaster. He is well. I merely sent him away from this place. I did not hurt your friend.” Her demeanor changed abruptly, and once again she was the shy schoolgirl. “I wouldn’t dream of making you angry,” she said. “I need you.”

  “Need me? What for?” He was still angry, and the fact that Malia was not only untrustworthy but also unstable was becoming readily apparent.

  “Why, you have to play me,” she smiled. “That’s why you’re here. Haven’t you figured it out yet?”

  “I –”

  “Nobody else on this world or any other can play me. Only the SongMaster. In a sense, I was written for you, Joel, millennia before you came to be. Magir, my maker, knew you would come.”

  “But Massar told me that Magir was mad, and that the Duran would destroy the multiverse.”

  Malia shook her head, and a look of distaste crossed her face. “That one knows nothing. He is merely a meddler. Magir was neither mad nor evil. Forget what that other one told you.”

  Something wasn’t ringing true. “So why did he write you, if not to destroy everything? Why write a magic book of music for someone centuries in the future to come along and play? What’ll happen if I do play it – you, I mean?” I have to remember I’m talking to the book.

  “Ah, there lies the genius of my maker,” she said, smiling. “I contain a map, if you will, of a way to greater power. The tune that sounds when you play me will elevate your consciousness to another level – one that will be in touch with more power than you ever dreamed possible. There are other levels of being in the multiverse, and each has its own form of magic. I can put you in touch with a much more powerful level.”

  “But who says I want more power? I can barely handle the power I do have.”

  She shook her head, an expression of pity on her face. “Of course you want more power,” she said. “What else is there? Have you lost friends or family?”

  Immediately Fender came to mind, and his loss hit Joel sharply once again. “I can see that you have,” she continued. “I can offer you the power to bring back your loved ones. Death is but another step in a journey, and it can be reversed. I can offer you power that will make Massar tremble, should you wish it. I can offer you undreamed of power that can bring back your friends and rule the multiverse. In short, SongMaster, I offer you everything.” She was looking at him earnestly, and the look on her face was imploring him. “All you have to do,” she said slowly, “is play me.”

  Malia reached out, touched his arm, and guided him toward the pedestal. “Just play me, Joel,” she whispered. “I can make everything all right.”

  The world was getting fuzzy in his eyes. Bring back Fender? And Luana and Oren? It hardly seemed possible. Magic like that was something that he had never even considered, much less thought about possessing.

  But something was
wrong. Something in her constant urging was bothering him, and he couldn’t put his finger on it. Although he missed his friends and wanted to bring them back, it didn’t seem right that it would be that easy.

  She was staring at him intensely, and her lack of pupils was making him extremely uncomfortable. There was a buzzing in his head, and he shook it, trying to clear it so he could think. He looked down at the Duran. It was open to the front page, and he thoughtfully fingered the first chord. The G minor seventh took shape above the pedestal, a dark, brooding cloud of maroon that simply hung there, as if waiting for the next note in the sequence.

  The buzzing in his head intensified, and then without warning he heard a voice. It was J’Mart, but the voice wasn’t in his ears – it was in his mind. “Don’t do it, Joel. Didn’t I tell you? There’s something wrong here.” He squeezed his eyes shut, but his fingers had already shaped the next chord, an A minor.

  Malia grabbed his arm. “That’s it, Joel. Just let it out. Play me! Play me!”

  “Power’s not what it’s about, SongMaster,” came J’Mart’s voice. “Do what your heart tells you is right. She won’t let me back in there with you, but I don’t need to be there. You know what to do.” Then the Ramiken was silent.

  Malia gripped his arm more tightly. “Don’t you want the power? Come, SongMaster! Your time has come! Play me and rule!”

  With a start, Joel knew what to do. He opened his eyes. Malia was staring at him with a look of intensity he had never seen before. He shrugged at her. “Sorry, little girl. I don’t want power that badly. Not badly enough to destroy everything.” In one smooth movement, he flipped to the last page of the Duran. The very last chord was a C Major, and he strummed it confidently.

  The effect on her was instantaneous. “What are you doing?” she screamed. “You can’t play me that way!”

  “No, I think I can,” he replied calmly. “I think that’s what I’m going to do, as a matter of fact.”

  “NO! Turn back to the front!” She held up her hand threateningly.