The Harpy's Song

by Logan Joss

  20

  The Qilling

  THE SOUTH GATE loomed above them like a dark shadow cut into the palace wall. Trevor groped around blindly in the darkness, feeling for the outline of the wicket door through which they had departed earlier that day. He found the heavy metal ring and applied all his strength to try and turn it, but it was locked. Undeterred, he struck the metal ring against the hard, wooden door with an echoing boom. He took a step back next to Mèlli as a small hatch slid open high in the gate. A thin, squeaky voice spoke with an air of irritation. ‘Who goes there?’

  ‘It’s Trevor and Mèlli,’ Trevor said, unsure of what the guard was expecting.

  ‘The gate was locked at sunset and won’t be reopened until dawn. Come back then,’ the guard said, unhelpfully.

  ‘Don’t be so ridiculous, open the door. The king is expecting us,’ said Mèlli.

  ‘I wasn’t informed.’

  ‘You can go and check with the king. We were supposed to be back earlier but we got held up.’

  The hatch in the door slammed closed, leaving Trevor and Mèlli to wait in the darkness.

  ‘They will let us in won’t they?’ Trevor asked.

  Mèlli just shrugged and wrapped his arms around himself against the chill night air.

  Trevor waited uneasily, his head throbbing and his body aching from the scuffle with the merchants.

  The sound of the hatch reopening was most welcome. The same squeaky voice asked, ‘Can you confirm your identities?’

  Trevor started to panic but was saved from explaining by the calm, authoritative voice of Frèuitùs. ‘That won’t be necessary, just open the door.’

  Without another word, the hatch closed again and was followed moments later by the metallic thud of the lock turning and the clanging sound of the heavy brace being lifted. The door swung open and Trevor and Mèlli gladly rushed through, relieved to be back within the safety of the palace walls.

  Frèuitùs ushered them into the warmth of the palace itself and, by the light of the firestone lamps, looked them up and down, noticing their disheveled appearance. ‘I know you must be tired, and it looks like your trip to the library may have been more treacherous than expected, but the king wishes to see you immediately.’ He led the pair to the king’s parlor where Somúlùs sat waiting for them.

  Trevor entered with his shoulders hunched and his head hanging low. ‘I’m sorry we’re late your majesty, but—’

  ‘You were told to be back before sunset,’ the king began in a stern voice. ‘I was about to send people out to look for you and you know I can’t spare any of my men at this time.’

  Trevor swayed a little and reached out to steady himself against a chair.

  It was then that King Somúlùs noticed the ripped clothing and the bruises on both of the boys. ‘What on Ëlamár has happened?’ he asked, standing and pouring some water for Trevor, while Frèuitùs settled him into a chair.

  ‘We were set upon by a group of merchants who mistook us for thieves,’ Mèlli explained.

  ‘Merchants?’ Frèuitùs said. ‘You’re lucky you weren’t killed.’

  ‘Trevor nearly was,’ Mèlli said in earnest.

  ‘No, no, I’m fine.’

  ‘He’s not. He took a nasty blow to the head.’

  ‘No, really, it’s nothing,’ Trevor insisted.

  Frèuitùs ignored Trevor’s protests and parted his hair to examine the wound. Seeing the size of the bump, Frèuitùs raised his eyebrows and nodded at the king. ‘I think this needs to be looked at by a physician,’ he said.

  ‘Make it so, Frèuitùs,’ Somúlùs said and, under protest, Trevor allowed himself to be led from the room by the consul.

  No sooner had they left, than Mèlli settled himself into Trevor’s chair and excitedly started to tell the king all about what had happened on the quayside.

  ‘You should have seen how Trevor handled those merchants. He went straight for the biggest one, who was just about to finish me off, and he wrestled him to the ground,’ Mèlli said, embellishing a little. ‘Then one of the men pulled a knife out on me. I managed to knock it out of his hand, but then Trevor grabbed hold of it. And guess what? He stabbed the merchant in the back.’ Mèlli was on the edge of his seat, his eyes bright with excitement. King Somúlùs listened patiently as Mèlli recounted the rest of the tale.

  ‘And that’s how Trevor got the bang on his head. He jumped between me and the merchants so I could get away, and the merchants pounced on him and threw him to the ground. And that’s when those urchins turned up—’

  ‘It sounds like you were both very lucky,’ the king interrupted in a kindly tone. ‘Now, tell me what you found in the library.’

  ‘Well, I’ve been to the library before so I knew where everything was, but it was Trevor who found the most important information. He found out about an ancient prince who imprisoned a dragon beneath a mountain. And…’ Mèlli continued enthusiastically to describe the events of the day in excruciating detail, leaving Somúlùs feeling quite exhausted.

  When Frèuitùs returned to the parlor, the king was very relieved to be able to change the subject. ‘How is the boy?’ he asked his consul.

  ‘He has been given some tonic and has been sent to his chamber to rest. There is nothing more that can be done for him at this time.’

  ‘Can I go and see him?’ Mèlli asked, jumping up from the chair.

  ‘I don’t think that’s wise. He needs to rest,’ Frèuitùs said, earning himself an admonishing frown from the king.

  ‘Then please may I be excused to go and see Ormostrious?’

  With a sigh of relief, the king said, ‘Oh yes, please do. I’m sure he would be eager to hear of your findings. He set up his things in the West Library reading room and was there the last time I saw him.’

  When Mèlli arrived, the West Library was only half lit by a few scattered firestone lamps. Inside, it was deserted; the immaculately kept bookcases stood quietly, waiting. Mèlli tiptoed through towards the reading room on the far side, where he heard an assortment of strange noises emanating from within. He crept to the doorway and peered around. The reading room had been transformed into an alchemist’s laboratory. With all its surfaces covered in bubbling glass flasks and clouds of colorful steam, it was beginning to resemble Ormostrious’ own house. Ormostrious, however, was not there.

  Fascinated by the array of equipment, Mèlli wandered around the room peering inquisitively at the experiments, when a voice came from the doorway. ‘What are you doing in here?’

  Mèlli was startled and looked up to see a guard standing at the entrance to the reading room. ‘I was looking for Ormostrious,’ Mèlli said. ‘Do you know where he is?’

  ‘He hasn’t been here all afternoon. Try the war room,’ the guard said dismissively.

  Mèlli flashed a false smile. ‘I’ll try there then,’ he said and skipped out of the library. But he didn’t go to the war room. If there was one thing that Mèlli had learned from all those years of following his mother as she conducted her research, it was that if you want to know something, ask the servants. He headed to the scullery.

  Mèlli was surprised by the level of activity in the kitchens. Large cuts of meat roasted on spits over open fires, while huge pots bubbled on the stoves, filled to the brim with many different vegetables. Cooks and scullery maids busied themselves chopping, stirring and preparing the food for what Mèlli thought would be a feast worthy of royal visitors. Through the clouds of steam, he spotted Freya on the far side of the scullery, but she was too busy to notice him. He sidled through and ducked down the stone steps into the servants quarters, where two housemaids were enjoying a cup of láven.

  ‘…they didn’t realize how bad it was, but now they’ve sent him away to recover!’

  ‘Oh my!’

  Mèlli coughed. ‘Um, hello.’

  ‘Can we help you?’ one of the maids said snootily.

  ‘I don’t suppose one of you knows where Ormostrious is, do you?’ Mèlli ask
ed.

  ‘Not me, I’ve been down here all day preparing for the…ouch!’ The snooty maid elbowed her friend in the ribs.

  ‘Try the master. That Ormostrious fellow came down here looking for keys earlier and the master dealt with him. He’ll be in his quarters.’

  Mèlli thanked the maids and continued along the corridor, looking for the master’s room. He was the head of the servants, so Mèlli knew that he would have the largest, quietest room, furthest away from the hustle and bustle of the kitchens. He knocked on the door at the end of the corridor. A moment later, the door opened to reveal a distinguished looking runian man with balding grey hair, who was part way through buttoning up a smart dress shirt. ‘Can I help you?’ he asked, looking surprised to see Mèlli there.

  ‘I’m looking for Ormostrious. Do you know where he is?’ Mèlli asked. ‘I was told that you spoke to him.’

  ‘Yes indeed. He asked for the keys to the old wine cellar. I took him there myself. I couldn’t say whether he’s still there,’ the old master said. Then, with a sigh, ‘Let me show you.’

  He led Mèlli back through the scullery and out into the night air, where they skirted around the perimeter of the large parade ground and entered a side wing of the palace.

  ‘I can’t imagine why he would want to come here; it’s nothing but an old storeroom these days, filled with broken furniture and anything else without a use,’ the master said. ‘It’s down here.’ He opened a door and pointed to a spiral staircase leading down into the basement. ‘Now, if that will be all.’ He bowed slightly and left.

  Mèlli made his way down the worn stone steps, which opened up into a gloomy basement, stacked high with unwanted clutter. He weaved his way carefully through the precariously balanced objects, wishing he had brought a firestone lantern. A brief flicker of light caught his eye, coming from behind a stack of chests ahead of him. Realizing that it must be Ormostrious, Mèlli eagerly hurried towards the light but tripped over a table leg and fell, causing a loud clatter.

  ‘Ahh, Mèlli. About time,’ Ormostrious said, holding up a lantern. Mèlli stood quickly and made his way towards him, far more easily now that his path was lit. He saw that Ormostrious had cleared an area of the floor of everything except a metal architrave, which stood upright at its center.

  Oblivious to his surroundings, Mèlli launched into another enthusiastic recount of the day’s events, in the same detail that he had given to King Somúlùs. Ormostrious listened with interest.

  ‘…Trevor was wrestling the biggest of the merchants on the ground and that’s when this other merchant pulled a knife out on me. I managed to disarm him, but the knife fell on the floor not far from Trevor. Then Trevor fought the merchant to get to the knife first and he grabbed it and plunged it deep into his chest. Then Trevor jumped up and put himself between me and all the other merchants and said ‘Run!’ but the merchants all pounced on him and threw him to the ground. And that’s how he got the bang on his head.’

  Ormostrious nodded sagely. ‘And your shadow is not with you?’ he said, looking around.

  Mèlli screwed his face up in confusion. ‘Oh, you mean Trevor. No, Frèuitùs said he has to rest and he wouldn’t even let me go and see him.’ He paused. ‘Oh, I just remembered something.’ He disappeared for a moment behind the pile of crates and re-emerged holding two very crumpled up scrolls, which he presented to Ormostrious.

  ‘I had to smuggle these out of the library in my pants, so they got a bit crumpled.’

  Ormostrious gave a rare half-smile and took the scrolls from Mèlli. He sat down on the floor and proceeded to examine them by the light of the firestone lantern.

  ‘Are they the right ones?’ Mèlli asked.

  ‘Yes, they are indeed.’

  Mèlli sat down next to him and watched.

  ‘You grow close to him,’ Ormostrious said, not lifting his eyes from the scrolls. Mèlli fidgeted uncomfortably. Ormostrious turned to face him and peered at him over the rim of his glasses. ‘How do you think he will feel when he discovers your deceit?’

  Mèlli shrugged. ‘It’s only a couple of scrolls, I’m sure he’ll get over it.’

  ‘That is not the deceit of which I speak.’

  Mèlli was about to question what he meant when Ormostrious continued.

  ‘Have you heard the story of the Qilling?’

  ‘Of course I have. Hasn’t everyone? It was an evil dragon who killed thousands of people and destroyed cities. Its punishment was that all other dragons would be killed so it would have to live an eternity alone.’

  ‘Ah, yes. That’s one version of the tale. But have you heard the real story?’ Ormostrious turned back to the scrolls and continued to examine them as he spoke.

  ‘The Qilling was the king of all dragons, a powerful but peaceful being who lived a reclusive and harmonious life until he was enslaved by an outcast prince who had learned how to wield dark magic. He used this magic to control the dragon, turning him into a weapon and destroying all those who stood in his way. But even after the prince had vanquished all his enemies, he continued to remove all those who he feared may oppose him in the future.

  When the dragon refused to carry out the prince’s evil doings any longer, the prince swore he would kill all the other dragons until he obeyed him once more. But still the Qilling refused and told the prince he would welcome his own death.

  The prince was true to his word and hunted down and killed every last dragon on every continent of Ëlamár. When he was done he went to the Qilling and told him that he was now the last of his kind. The Qilling was overcome with grief and begged for his own death. But out of malice, instead of killing him the prince imprisoned the dragon and left him to suffer for eternity alone.’

  Ormostrious paused when he had finished, allowing the story to sink in. ‘Do you think the Qilling made the right decision?’ he asked after a while.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘By doing what the prince had asked of him, he would have saved his entire species and an eternity of pain and suffering.’

  ‘Yeah, but then thousands…tens of thousands of others would have died.’

  ‘So you agree then,’ Ormostrious said, raising his eyebrows thoughtfully, ‘that often the most difficult decisions we are faced with are the ones with the furthest-reaching consequences.’

  Mèlli furrowed his brow. ‘Uh, I guess so,’ he said.

  ‘In effect, the Qilling sacrificed his species and his own happiness to save the rest of Ëlamár.’ Ormostrious leaned in closer to Mèlli and continued in a softer tone. ‘Do you think you could make such a decision if the situation arose?’

  Mèlli was taken aback and had no idea what to say. Even the thought of such a huge responsibility made his head swim.

  They sat in contemplative silence for a moment until the sound of footsteps caught their attention. A maid appeared at the bottom of the steps, waving a lantern this way and that. ‘Ormostrious, sir, are you in here?’

  Ormostrious stood up. ‘Yes, I’m here.’

  The maid started to make her way through the clutter towards him, but Ormostrious stopped her. ‘No need to come over here. I will come to you.’ He picked his way across the room to the maid, followed by Mèlli.

  ‘Sir, I’ve been sent to tell you that it’s almost time.’

  Ormostrious nodded his head. ‘We will be there presently.’

  The maid left and Ormostrious turned to Mèlli, looking him up and down by the light of the lantern. ‘I suggest you go and clean yourself up. The king has requested our presence in the banquet hall.’

  Mèlli groaned. ‘I’d rather just go to bed.’

  Ormostrious just walked off up the stairs. ‘I’ll see you in the banquet hall then.’

  Mèlli returned to his room to find new garments laid out for him on the bed. He picked them up and wrinkled his nose in distaste. There was a pair of pants and a waistcoat, both made of crushed blue velvet and a ruffled shirt with long frilly cuffs.

  ‘You
have got to be joking!’ he said aloud.

  He went to the washbasin and tried his hardest to scrub the dirt from his clothes so that he wouldn’t have to wear that ridiculous outfit. But it was no use, no amount of scrubbing made the slightest difference. Admitting defeat, he washed his hands and face and reluctantly put on his new clothes.

  ‘Trevor better have one of these as well,’ he muttered under his breath to the empty room.

  He made his way to the banquet hall, pulling uncomfortably at his frilly shirt. To his surprise, the huge room was bursting with life and the sounds of celebration, almost as if these were normal times untainted by the threat of war. It was filled with large round tables, lavishly decorated and piled high with platters of fruit and hors-d’oeuvres and surrounded by people in elegant costumes. Amongst the smiling faces, Mèlli was sure he recognized some of the king’s guards and even some of the footmen and housekeepers that he had seen around the palace.

  Feeling self-conscious, Mèlli sneaked in behind a waiter carrying a platter of food. He saw that the king was already seated at the top table with Frèuitùs and one of his generals, but he couldn’t see Ormostrious or Trevor. Mèlli slunk timidly around the edge of the room and stood against a wall, trying not to draw any attention to himself. It was then that he spotted Ormostrious. He was making his way slowly to the top table, being stopped along the way by people wanting to shake his hand and discuss his contribution to the war effort. Noticing Mèlli standing all alone, looking out of place and very awkward, he hurried across the room to rescue him.

  ‘You look as uncomfortable as I feel,’ Ormostrious said. ‘Perhaps we should go and take our seats.’

  Mèlli was surprised to be led to the top table, where King Somúlùs sat. The king stood up as they approached and shook their hands solemnly before gesturing for them to sit beside him.

  ‘Where’s Trevor?’ Mèlli quietly asked Ormostrious as they sat down.