Struck into silence, William stared back in shock, and Redmun continued in a way which yearned to be heeded. “And don’t even get me started on how you’ve been given a life of great purpose. A life of salvation and glory! You have been granted the opportunity to do things that other people could only dream of. A chance to prove yourself beyond all measures! And what? You deny this life?”
“N-N-No, but—” William stuttered.
“Bah, there are no ‘buts,’ boy!” the man put in, growing impatient again. “To lead a life of substance is everybody’s dream, but very few have the courage to actually follow it. Some may think they are making the most of their given time, but all they are truly doing is reaping life’s luxuries for the sake of themselves...and never will anyone be remembered for such things. Only names of the righteous and the strong can withstand the test of time. Such as what your name could do, lad.”
When he insisted on telling William what he should want out of his own life, William became rather defensive, and protested, “Redmun, with all due respect, I had plans for my future. I already had ideas about what I wanted. Then all this happened! Fair enough, I wanted purpose, yes. But something more along the lines of a musician or something. Or some public figure. I don’t know. Something.”
“Oh, I see!” the man smirked sourly. “Had there been no threat of Briggun, you’d rather be back in your world pursuing these petty little dreams, is that it? Yes? What if they failed? What then?”
The boy, irked, didn’t say anything.
“I’ll tell you what then,” Redmun went on. “You’d end up slaving for somebody you hardly know. Doing something you’d most likely loath. And worst of all, you know it, too. I know how your world works, boy. Ours is not all that different anymore.”
“I could see myself working for someone else until I got myself sorted or till something better comes along, too right I would,” William retorted. “And what’s wrong with that? So what if I’m not dancing my way into work every morning, happy as a pig in muck! But at least it’s a living. And this living would put food on the table and clothes on my back until I find my true calling! I know plenty o’ folk who make the most out o’ their ordinary, everyday jobs, and they get by happily enough. Some people just do what they can in order to scrape by, and it isn’t fair to judge them for that. You make it sound like torture, trying to earn an honest living.”
“And that’s what life is all about to you, is it...scraping by?” the man asked.
“Well...” William paused.
“No,” Redmun added, with profound sincerity. “Life has been given to each of us as a chance to prove how well we can survive, to the best of our abilities and courage, in the world which our good Lord has provided us with. Not only is this ultimately rewarding, but it will also help us to meet people whose love for us could not even be surpassed by God himself. As for your particular idea of ‘living;’ it steers us to nothing but futility. After a lifetime, when these people are too old and too lonely to have the luxury of options, they turn around and ask, ‘where has my life gone?’ And by then they have no way out except through death...which is truly sad. What’s all the more pitiful is how so many knowingly fall into this trap! Regretfully in the end, of course. Some spiteful few then insist that others live by this code too, as it is considered the ‘common way’...or the ‘safe option!’ Unfortunately these options are cowardly, slothful and, ironically...lifeless. Forgive me if that sounds harsh.”
Before William could oppose and proceed to voice his own views, Redmun interrupted him again by saying, “Boy, each of us are born with our own potential. Some, I admit, more than others. Even so, we all possess some natural promise, and we owe it to ourselves to act upon it. Through their talents, every breathing soul out there has the ability to shape the hearts around them, for good, whether it be a minor influence or a major one. Either way, they can truly embrace their time on earth. Combined with their own dreams, drives, and dispositions, these talents can germinate and grow until something so unexpected and completely magnificent will result from them. From that first little concept. From that initial step. Be it the first glance into our child’s eyes, or to be the last one standing upon a battlefield in war; something miraculous will always come from ambition. We all have our parts to play in life, lad. We weren’t given our time to waste it...and it is these very gifts which allow us the power to make it through in ways which we could never even dream.
“Of course, we must work in order to achieve these goals. This means nurturing our skills so we can use them proficiently, and not disregard them so we can evade probable rejection, only to pursue a road which is truthfully unimportant to us, but will at least ‘put food on the table,’ as you so put it. No, sacrifices must be made for us to reap the optimum rewards. But, in the end, as we flourish in the realities of these very dreams, lad, all of our toil and pain will look to be but minuscule in contrast to the bountiful universe which has been paved by our success, creating a long and blissful future for ourselves and our loved ones, while inspiring the dreams of others to come; creating a never-ending cycle of hopes and desires for all. As for you, boy, your gift is allowing you the opportunity to make such a difference!”
Intruding on the man, William said woefully, “Listen. All that sounds great and all. And I appreciate what you’re trying to say. But these ‘lonely’ people you’re talking about...at least they get to live out their lives in some comfort, without looking over their shoulders every two minutes, worrying if they’re going to get their heads chopped off or eaten by some demon dog or some Gremlin!”
“Maybe so,” the man admitted. “There will be dangers upon your path, I will not deny that. Yet does that actually differ, all that much, from the hazards of any other existence? Think about it. I’ve heard of how danger practically rules your new world. Is it not true that the poverty-stricken run the risk of fatal illnesses on account of poor conditions? Are the prosperous not under threat by the hands of the jealous and the corrupt? Do the labourers not jeopardize their wellbeing, every...single...day, while hunting, safeguarding, or sailing the ruthless seas to trawl or travel? No? Let alone the unwary woman or child who roams from place to place, beneath the very shadow of prowling evil who looks to prey on their credulity.
“Besides, it is to understand the meaning behind your given journey that truly counts! You must overlook these obstacles of petty danger and see everything from a greater perspective. With your own blessed opportunities, you could be someone truly unique, boy! Someone who no other human being in the history of time has ever gotten the opportunity to be...nor will they ever! You’ve inherited a gift, a marvellous privilege. The gift of liberation. To help the helpless beyond the limits of anything that has ever been seen before. To be feared by the fearful. To know how it feels to be the one who so many turn to in their hour of need! One whose power could save countless lives while granting them—as has been done for you—futures of their very own. And then, a moment will arrive when your name will live on long past the margins of time itself...bestowing hope unto those who could but wish to ever attain such courage! You have been appointed the task of sole saviour for our worlds; both your world and mine. It’s your destiny.”
William had never known such passion in his entire life as what he heard leaving Redmun’s lips in that moment. And yet he could not look at him. He spoke of William with such high hopes, and as much as he wanted to believe all of this, he still didn’t understand this supposed power which he was yet to obtain, or how it could eventually achieve such feats. It was all so bewildering to him, and more than demanding.
Then the man uttered as though defeated, “Or perhaps you would rather lie down before Briggun and die. Is that it? Because that is the only outcome you shall face, should you turn around right now and head for home. Because without you, here, now, challenging him, he will undoubtedly prevail, until he eventually has it all. Our world, your world, even the universe and beyond. It is just a matter of time. But thi
s is your choice...not mine. I’m merely trying to illustrate how nonpareil you could be.”
Redmun strolled back to his chair, where he slouched himself lazily.
It wasn’t a complete loss, for William heard truth in his words. It was as if Redmun knew what William wanted before William knew it himself. The boy did wish to live out a life of purpose, just like those in his books, and this was likely the only chance he would ever get to achieve such righteousness. Nothing in his life back home could ever compare to the magnitude and magic of this very opportunity. He was still miles from being thrilled about the whole ordeal, but he was slowly warming to it. It made him feel special.
“So, do you wish to hear what I have to say? Or do you wish to depart and leave fate to the hands of our enemy?” asked Redmun, as if exhausted from talking to the wall, as it were.
Letting Drevol succeed was not what William wanted, not by any means.
“I’m sorry...” the lad said regretfully. “I didn’t mean anything by it, honestly. It’s me. Sometimes it’s just hard to come to terms with all o’ this...this stuff! But please, go on...”
A smile grew upon the man’s face, overjoyed by William’s will to comply.
“Good! Good, lad! Now, where was I?” said Redmun, returning to life again. “Oh, yes! The scrolls say that, once this boy truly realises his destiny, he will be able to defeat Drevol Briggun, alone and unaided. Now, if I can help you to become who you are destined to be, then maybe I can help you to vanquish this evil I’ve once caused. I can then fight alongside you, and do what I can to aid those who’ve suffered from this. I shall take it as penance. Yet, I can only hope that it will be enough to salvage these lands. Now, there is one thing required to help with your reincarnation. One tool.”
William watched him lurching his way over to a tower of papers and books, below which a black, timeworn safe was hidden. Cryptically, Redmun twisted the dial left, to right, to left again, before turning the handle sharply clockwise. William was peering over his shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was inside...but there was very little, save for a few parchments and some scrolls. On the upper shelf, however, in the shadows, there was a fairly bulky item wrapped in red satin. Like it was a sleeping child, Redmun lifted it out carefully and carried it over to the table.
Resting the item down, he said mysteriously, “It is called the Symphogram, and it was the best-kept secret of the Lythial world.”
“The Symphogram? What’s that?” William asked, glaring dreamily at the veil.
“It was a device that neither Drevol nor his agents of evil ever learned of!” Redmun answered.
He then whisked off the cloth...and there it was.
It resembled a gramophone in almost every respect. Only it was smaller, and there was no turntable, merely a raven horn fixed to a polished mahogany body. On its side, a brass crank was secured by a heavy padlock with no keyhole. Upon the lock was a face, much like the face on Thérn’s pommel, as it happens. Also, it appeared that the box itself could be opened, though the seal had been stitched by heavy golden thread, with each suture being of an odd rune shape and, to open it, looked forbidden. Whilst analysing the contraption, a sudden image flashed in William’s mind. An image of that same music box he saw in the tower. Snapping out of it, he shook his head, uncertain of what had just happened.
“You all right there, lad?” Redmun asked, steadying the boy.
“I’m fine,” William pretended. “Just a little tired from training. Happens sometimes. So, what were you saying?”
“Very well. Now! Crafted by the dwarf carpenter Mitzel Acahrá, the Symphogram was used to utter the theme of the warrior!” Redmun said, with an air of mysticism.
“Theme?” William asked, with converging eyebrows. “As in...music?”
“Indeed!” the man replied.
“But what’s music got to do with all o’ this?”
Redmun then grinned with anticipation for the story he was now to tell.
“This is the true meaning behind Mysun Margyle, lad,” he said, as a faint, visiting draught gave momentary life to the candlelight. “In the beginning, when Mysun came onto this land, within his heart a song was born. ‘Twas a composition so powerful and glorious that it would bellow with morale for any good person who heard it; almost rattling the very ground as Mysun strode into battle. This music was always in his heart and mind, you see. He always knew it was there, for he could hear it within himself. But there was a time when it didn’t have any physical way of revealing itself to him...or to his allies, for that matter.
“So Mitzel took it upon himself to invent a tool which the warrior could use to bring the music out. Hence, he envisioned the Symphogram. Into it he placed an orchestra of Pitch Faeries, whose sole purpose was to perform that beautiful music! Mitzel had grown these faeries himself; one of his very own creations. He managed to do so through the crossbreeding of different plants and spells, along with one droplet of blood from the hero himself, which the faeries required for empathy of their host. And so it was that the Symphogram was born.
“Anytime Mysun felt strong, when he sensed the music growing within, it would drum aloud through Mitzel’s creation. The music represented courage and purpose, and the Symphogram would play Mysun’s theme as loudly as a dozen orchestras. The piece became known amongst the people as the Banádh...or Birth Music. The emotion in this melody was something so magnificent that no other piece throughout time itself could ever rival it. It was so undeniably beautiful and so full of hope, with drums as clear as thunder.
“But that’s not all! Like the tyrant Briggun, through his music, Mysun could also summon to him his allies, those whom he had befriended throughout his existence. They too would become one with the music of the Banádh, as though enchanted by its spell, and they would sing to its melody as they marched to their hero’s side in battle. But once victory was at hand, and the music had faded, both the melody and the words would suddenly become forgotten by those who were lured to it; like they were delivered amnesia by the will of its secret, so it could never be replicated and put to misuse by another. Even so, never would Mysun’s allies forget nor deny their reasons for fighting alongside him. Never would they surrender that hope for freedom.
“The Symphogram was never completely essential to Mysun maintaining his power, though it did aid him immensely in war. But without it now, boy, you will neither have the ability to wield the Wrythus nor accommodate the forces of Mysun. It is a necessity for the victory of this final conflict. And if something should happen to it before then, or if it gets destroyed, we shall no doubt lose this war. This, I have learned from the precious manuscripts of Yùrnacha Hall.”
“Hang on,” William said, with a degree of confusion. “How can this Symphogram be a secret from Drevol if he heard the music playing on the battlefield?”
“Oh, he knows of the music,” Redmun explained. “He fears it greatly. Yet he knows not of its source. He knows nothing of the Symphogram itself. I expect he thinks that the Banádh simply rains down upon them from the heavens or something to that effect. I don’t know what he thinks, really...nor do I care to know.”
Draping the Symphogram considerately within the satin cloth, Redmun placed it back inside the safe before proceeding with his tale.
“Some centuries after Drevol had claimed the canyons of Lòr, the Symphogram was discovered to have been left behind after the great flee. I had to study this lore in the histories, having not been around in those yesteryears myself. So, with knowledge of this, I threw caution to the wind, and saw this as the chance I had been waiting for, a chance to aid he who had the gift of salvation. So it became my mission to retrieve the Symphogram, thereby furthering the boy’s chances upon this land. I knew that his rebirth would not hold true without the aid of the artefact. So, immediately, I left for the canyons, and that journey put me to the ultimate test.
“Upon that road, I came in contact with all manner of foes. Conflict was around every turn, both physically an
d mentally, and the quest lasted some weeks. ‘Twas then that I reached the Barren City before the great mountain of Andin’s Shield. Within that city were the first buildings to have ever been erected during the times of justice. However, it is the last place that anyone wishes to be nowadays, for those buildings stand upon the very edge of evil land.
“After I’d found my way over the Great Mountain, I was on the very brink of the canyons. So there I waited, in the shadows, biding my time before finally infiltrating to retrieve the Symphogram. Then it happened. My chance had arrived.
“Drevol had left his nest one midsummer’s eve, so covertly I walked the dreaded trail of the canyon, entering the Bohàr Pass in search of the Symphogram. I believe a gateway has been erected there since, to prevent any from entering. A horrid contraption, I hear.
“Already I had maps in my possession, drawn by the Druid Trolls of the Seventh Moon. These rare charts contained the possible whereabouts of this artefact, and they did not lead me astray. After some days of prowling and many close encounters, I eventually found it in a chest, concealed beneath the tide of a black pool. It was apparently hidden there by the imps before seeking exile, lest Drevol wiped out every breathing soul and, in turn, destroyed the Symphogram, too. But their maps led me right to it. So with the Symphogram put safely in my rucksack, I made my escape.”
Suddenly, all enthusiasm went from Redmun’s voice as he slowly rubbed his palms.
The Other of One - Book One: The Lythiann Chronicles Page 38