Song of the Worlds Boxed Set

by Brandon Barr

  Meluscia’s cheeks flushed. “Stop reading my mind!”

  Savarah smiled. “Good. Have some anger. Your self-pity needs balanced by a dose of ferocity.” She handed Meluscia a piece of blank parchment. “I stole this from Terling’s bags and penned down a list of Isolaug’s spies. They will likely begin hunting you before you reach the Verdlands. If you want to live long enough to mope about all that sweet emotional shit in your heart, I suggest you get a contingent of the mayor’s best fighting men and have them accompany you to King Feaor. The spies in the Verdlands will have been the first Harcor warned. They will be wary of you. They will try and take your life.”

  Meluscia glanced at the parchment, breathing out an angry sigh. “I wish you were coming with me. I could use your fiery logic to keep me from drowning in...my sweet emotional refuse.”

  “You will be at a disadvantage without me, but I must go to receive my gift from the gods. I have little doubt that if they want you to accomplish something, they will keep you alive to do it. They brought me back from the gates of death to do more killing. I heard it from the lips of the girl prophet who healed me.”

  Meluscia frowned. Her own errand given her by the gods was not something she looked forward to. If the Makers were going to protect her until she accomplished it, what about afterward? Meluscia shook the unhelpful question from her mind and turned her thoughts upon what Savarah had said earlier...

  Nothing had changed. She could accomplish everything she’d set out to do. None of the rulers had to know she was with child. And as for Isolaug, if the gods were guiding her life, if they cared for the people of Hearth and wanted her to play a part in the story of her world, she must trust them in whatever journey they set before her.

  “Thank you, Savarah. Your words have helped me keep my head.”

  Meluscia exhaled a last breath of fear, replacing it with a deep breath of acceptance. She reached out and embraced her sister, something she hadn’t attempted to do since the first year Savarah arrived at the Hold. Meluscia stepped back and saw the same cold annoyance on her sister’s face that she had seen so many years ago when Savarah was eleven.

  “The intimacy of human touch is one of the gods’ highest gifts to us,” said Meluscia. “Do you ever wish you could enjoy it as others do?”

  A trace of humor worked to displace the irritation lining Savarah’s face. “I wish for intimacy about as much as you wish for a barrel of snakes and spiders to be overturned on your head. If you want to show me affection, don’t do it with touch.”

  Meluscia smiled, despite being saddened by Savarah’s inability to receive tenderness. But at least now she knew why her sister was so cold. She’d come out of Praelothia, out of a childhood Meluscia could not even begin to fathom. Her mind felt like it was about to burst with the shocking revelations dumped upon her in the last half hour.

  “I love you, sister,” said Meluscia. “I will miss you.”

  “Go,” said Savarah. “I know how you feel. Go loose your heart on King Feaor and the Sea Queens. Unite the kingdoms. Maybe we will meet again at Praelothia. That, at least, is something I can wish for.”

  CHAPTER 2

  MELUSCIA

  “I thought you wanted a small party,” said Belen, Meluscia’s servant. “Adding twenty soldiers isn’t going to look very modest to King Feaor.”

  Meluscia stood beside Lord Mayor Brucite in the town’s stables. She eyed the rough-looking men as they saddled horses and secured swords and supplies. Many had large unruly beards and matted hair that fell in tangles to their shoulders. All looked strong and capable.

  “You have made a wise choice,” said the Lord Mayor. “Once you cross our borders, there are many farmers who would be more than pleased to find the Luminess Imminent so ill equipped and unprotected traveling through their land. Many of our smaller towns have been raided by bands of these farmers.”

  Meluscia wondered at the mayor’s words. Having learned from Savarah that Harcor was responsible for the current conflict, she would have liked to know how truly dangerous the farmers were, or if Harcor’s hand was still mostly to blame for any recent killings. But it didn’t matter. The contingent of soldiers was there to protect them against Harcor and the others on Savarah’s list of spies. There were six in total.

  She knew two of the names on the list, Taumus, one of King Feaor’s advisors, and Quiysh, captain of the Sea Grotto’s largest fishing fleet. And besides Harcor, the other names were simply faceless enemies. Llani and Oevah of the Verdlands, and Noraek from the Southern Sea Kingdom.

  Meluscia looked at Belen. “I wish we could arrive as I originally intended, but circumstances have changed.” She turned to Mayor Brucite. “How do these men feel about Harcor?”

  The mayor paused, a heavy frown forming on his face. “All of Tilmar is reeling in confusion regarding what’s happened between your mercy sister and Harcor. Until we have answers, I’m not sure how any of us feel. There are a lot of rumors in the air.”

  The mayor’s words sharpened Meluscia’s fears. She needed the loyalty of these men, but she sensed it was unwise to reveal what she knew of Harcor’s true identity.

  “Mayor, gather your men together, I need to address them.”

  Mayor Brucite beckoned his men over, and within moments, twenty rough-looking faces were staring at Meluscia with wary eyes. She felt a tremor of fear pass through her. Their questioning expressions jarred her. And addressing so many strange men made her quite conscious that she was a young woman of only twenty-two years. She swallowed down the fear fluttering inside and put on a mask of confidence.

  “I am honored to have you accompany me into the Verdlands. My father, the Luminar, has sent me on an important mission to deliver a message to King Feaor. But I’m afraid something unexpected has placed a shadow over our party. My mercy sister, Savarah, apparently had some conflict with Harcor, the chief woodcutter of our kingdom. The details of this I do not fully understand.

  “I need your confidence in me and my mission. If any of you have doubts about joining my party, I will not be offended if you take leave. As I understand, Harcor was a well-loved member of your community, and as the daughter of the Luminar, I assure you he was well-respected by my father and the entire Hold.”

  A throaty growl sounded from one of the men. “Why don’t you ask your mercy sister what happened,” said a tall, bulky man standing at the back of the group. “She’s been brought back to life by a healer, from what I hear. What has she done to deserve my friend Harcor’s wrath?”

  Meluscia noticed many of the other men’s heads nodding at the question. She had been prepared to tell some kind of lie but suddenly found a better way. “It wouldn’t be prudent for me to say what grudge Harcor and Savarah shared.”

  “Is it true he’s been banished?” said another man.

  “It is not true,” said Meluscia. “He has fled.”

  “Harcor is not the cowardly kind. Has he committed some crime? You must tell us, for he was a friend and hero to this entire town.”

  The statement bothered Meluscia. So too did the defensive air in the room. Clearly Harcor had endeared himself to this entire community, and that forced her to confront the possibility that the other spies on the list were not all grim and brooding like her sister. The Harcor these men knew had charm. She thought of Aszelbor and Osiiun. These men had not been like Savarah. Especially Aszelbor, the undercook. He’d had a hearty laugh and big red cheeks that stuck out as much as his rounded belly. Meluscia had eaten countless meals prepared by the man, only now to find out he was from the Star Garden Realm. From the hand of Isolaug.

  A disturbing thought occurred to her. She was putting an enormous amount of trust in her sister’s story. Could it not be the other way around? Could Savarah not be lying and doing Isolaug’s will while the others…while the others what?

  The pieces fit so well together in Savarah’s story. Why else would Harcor flee? And why else would she admit to killing the undercook and one of her father’s ten
riders?

  And even more. Why would the Makers heal her if she were not of a changed heart?

  She returned to the question asked of her. “Again, it is not for me to tell Harcor’s crime. You will simply have to trust me. Now, as I said before, if any of you are conflicted in joining me, you will not be frowned upon for taking your leave. I want only men willing to risk their lives to see Trigon’s mission through. This is the moment for your decision. Those who wish to part ways, do so now.”

  Meluscia waited.

  To her surprise, not one man left.

  “I value your confidence,” said Meluscia. “We ride at the end of the hour. Who knows the road to King Feaor’s castle?”

  All twenty men raised their hands.

  Meluscia smiled. “Well, we can be sure we won’t get lost.”

  --

  WILUIT

  “We need to go with that pretty girl,” said Shauwby. “I think I will have more words for her.”

  Wiluit peered out from the large window of the third story room Mayor Brucite had given them. The mayor had offered them each a room, but Wiluit refused. They would stay together. They always did. It wasn’t safe otherwise.

  “Which girl are you talking about?” asked Wiluit, his brows angled down toward the bridge of his nose. He suppressed a smile as he watched four-year-old Shauwby wiggle in his chair.

  “The princess girl. The one that is going to be a mommy.”

  “Did you not find the other girl to be pretty? The one you told would meet a monster?”

  Shauwby squished his lips tightly together and frowned. “Everything on her face was pretty, but she had mean looking eyes. Bad man eyes…or…bad girl eyes.”

  “Am I still the prettiest girl in all the world?” asked Jauphenna, feigning concern as she looked at Shauwby from over a small pigskin scroll she was reading.

  Wiluit almost laughed at the worry flashing across Shauwby’s face.

  “Oh yes!” said Shauwby. “You are the most prettiest girl of all. And the princess is second prettiest.”

  Jauphenna giggled. “Thank you my Shauwby-Shauwby.”

  Wiluit again peered out the window which looked into the main courtyard. There was much commotion, and it appeared the Luminar’s daughter was preparing to depart. Where to, he did not care. His little band of three prophets and two scribes would leave tonight as well, under the cover of dark, sometime after the midnight hour. He didn’t have any particular route—it did not matter until one of them received direction from the gods.

  He had initially enjoyed the spontaneity the gods placed upon him. Moving like driftwood through the sea, driven by the currents of the Makers. However, there was a tugging sensation in his soul that had begun to grow of late. A desire to settle down. He had read enough of Takmuk and Seethus’s scrolls to know that not all prophets wandered about forever. Perhaps one day the Makers would grant his prayers for a homestead near the woods where he could hunt, raise animals, find a wife and live a more predictable life. But for now, he was content. The gods had radical missions for his band of prophets, and truthfully, he loved each of the four others and couldn’t stomach separating. They were family. His blood father and brothers, they had disowned him long ago.

  Wiluit turned from the window and spied Takmuk, the strange old scribe, hunched over one of the two desks that Mayor Brucite had promptly brought in at his request. In the bed against the wall was Seethus, the older scribe, sleeping again. It was his third nap that day.

  Takmuk’s pen paused, then flourished onward across the page. Both Takmuk and Seethus had been recording the words that he, Jauphenna and Shauwby had spoken in obedience to the Cherah spirits the gods had bonded to them. They had also recorded some of the major events and miracles their band had encountered in the year and a half they had been together. Both Takmuk and Seethus also penned down revelation and wisdom divined to them by the gods. They were the ones who’d started this entire adventure, coming to him one autumn night less than two years ago.

  Wiluit watched the little Cherah crawling over Takmuk’s fingers as he wrote. Its body was much like a mouse, yet its twenty nervous legs were a blur of motion as it meandered over up the back of his hand. Each member of their god-gifted group had a Cherah, but Wiluit was the only one who could see them, for that was the gifting the gods had given him. Spirit Sight.

  “Are we going to go with the princess?” asked Shauwby again. “I feel a little tickle on my heart to go with her.”

  “Is it a warm tickle?” asked Wiluit, playfully.

  “Certainly! Yes! A warm tickle. And it’s also really flappy, like hummingbird wings.”

  Wiluit laughed. “Are you sure that’s the gods tugging on your heart, and not the princess’ pretty face?”

  Shauwby frowned in thought.

  “I feel it too,” said Jauphenna in a brooding tone.

  Wiluit found Jauphenna’s eyes still staring down at the book in her hands. “You feel the pull to go with the Luminar’s daughter?” he asked her.

  “Yes,” said Jauphenna. “Nothing specific. I just feel that we are to go with her, even though it makes me cross.” She looked up from her book and found Wiluit’s eyes. “I was very much looking forward to escaping the roads and traveling into the forests of the Blue Mountains. You understand. Just the five of us. Having more adventures, swimming in lakes, climbing mountains. And not having to tell people about their darkest secrets.”

  Jauphenna lowered the book in her hand, her brown eyes hiding none of her frustration. She was sixteen years of age, and Wiluit sometimes felt caught between being her friend and being an older brother to her, just as he was to Shauwby. Complicating the matter further was Jauphenna’s growing feelings toward him. Although she was sixteen, she often behaved like she was twelve, yet in her head, she seemed to think herself of Wiluit’s age and maturity.

  The two old scribes provided little help when it came to guidance and care for Jauphenna. Takmuk, the younger of the two, was too serious and surly to provide any grandfatherly wisdom to anyone.

  And Seethus, if not so old and senile, might have played a bigger role in the group. At the very least, Seethus had formed a bond with Shauwby, who often sat on his lap around the campfire. The old man would smile his papery old lips and hum an ancient song as he tapped a rhythm on Shauwby’s arm. But Seethus provided nothing for a young woman coming out of girlhood, grappling with her new role as a Tongue of the gods while also struggling to discover how to grow into a woman. And all within the midst of four males.

  Wiluit looked out the window at Meluscia who was addressing a crowd of men in the courtyard. If Jauphenna felt the gods calling for their band to go with the Luminar’s daughter, that would be an unusual summons.

  Until he arrived here, in Tilmar, there had been few prophecies given. Mostly words for the scribes. A song of praise for the Makers, a rebuke to a cobbler. Curses for Jauphenna’s wicked parents. Twice a word of wisdom for a pig farmer and a blacksmith. But now, he felt a heaviness had come over his thoughts. He hid it as best he could from the others, but unmistakably, he knew some form of tragedy was about to take place. Something dark would become of someone dear to him—someone other than the old scribes. Only Jauphenna and Shauwby were that beloved by him.

  If this dark boding sense was true, that meant he would have to be all the more watchful. All the more careful. Their little group could not separate. Together they were safe. As long as they stayed near Shauwby.

  “So,” said Jauphenna. “Are we going?”

  He masked the emotions of his thoughts and met Jauphenna’s searching gaze.

  “If that’s what the gods will, then we shall travel with King Trigon’s daughter, wherever that may be. I’m sure we’ll have more adventures in the woods awaiting us down the road. The Makers know how much you love to swim in their icy lakes.”

  “And eat mushrooms,” said Jauphenna.

  “Not the poison ones though!” said Shauwby with furrowed brows.

  “N
o, not the poison ones,” said Wiluit. He looked again out the window. More than two dozen riders were mounted on horses in the courtyard. He saw the Luminar’s daughter, Meluscia, mount her horse.

  Quickly he opened the window and shouted, “Wait. We are coming with you.”

  Every head below peered up in his direction.

  “We’re coming down now!” he shouted again.

  Meluscia nodded. “We’ll wait for you”.

  He closed the window quickly.

  “We’re off again,” said Wiluit, he turned to Takmuk. “Don’t forget your scriptures.”

  “I didn’t forget them the last time,” groused Takmuk, shaking his quill pen at Wiluit. “You were supposed to grab them.”

  “Alright,” said Wiluit. “Are you taking them this time, or am I?”

  “I shall take them, lest you forget them again,” he said, a little playfulness in his annoyed tone.

  Jauphenna already had her clothes bag slung over her shoulder and was holding Shauwby’s hand.

  “I hope we don’t have to travel long with them. I’ve never cared for princesses. And especially not that one. You heard what she did.”

  “She’s not a princess,” said Wiluit, “I believe I heard her called Luminess Imminent.”

  “Whatever she is, she has a look about her. You know I’m good at reading people. She’s as slimy as a slug. I suggest you keep your distance.”

  Wiluit hefted Seethus’s heavy bag of books over his shoulder. “I’ll try my best not to get slimed,” he said. “Now take Shauwby down to the stables, I’ll be there shortly.”

  Jauphenna led Shauwby from the room, and Wiluit turned to the bed where Seethus still slept.

  Even with the old man’s walking staff, he would have to help him down the two flights of stairs.