Song of the Worlds Boxed Set

by Brandon Barr

  “Meluscia. The Luminar’s daughter,” said Wiluit between breaths. “She’s in danger.”

  “The princess?” said Shauwby, raising his head up.

  “Yes,” said Wiluit. “Here, climb onto my back.”

  The barracks came into view and Wiluit slowed his pace. He paused at the last row of trees in the orchard, pressing himself against the trunk.

  “Shush now,” whispered Wiluit in Shauwby’s ear. “Not a word.”

  In the quiet, he could hear the faint sound of men snoring inside. Meluscia had been given her own room. Where it was in the barracks, he didn’t know, but on this side of the building was a sole window, and he sensed he was to wait and watch.

  Footfalls sounded behind him, pattering lightly in the stillness.

  He turned to see Jauphenna coming up behind him.

  “I saw you leave and I followed,” she whispered.

  “You shouldn’t have come.” Wiluit’s voice rose above a whisper. “This task is for Shauwby.”

  “I have my throwing knives,” said Jauphenna, lifting one to the side of her face. “My aim has improved. You’ve seen.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Stay. It’s not safe for you to leave us now.”

  A frown passed across her face, then suddenly it was washed away by concern. “Did you hear that?

  Jauphenna spun around and as she did, the twang of an arrow sounded. Something snapped in front of them and fell to the ground. Another twang and then another.

  Snap-snap.

  Wiluit squinted at the ground where lay three broken arrows.

  “Who are you?” asked a voice out of the darkness.

  Wiluit stepped out from the tree. “If you’ve come to harm the Luminar’s daughter, then we are your enemy.”

  A figure cloaked in black emerged from the dark. “You must be the prophets I’ve heard tell about. I see the god-coddled child on your back. He’s the reason you’re still alive.”

  “Who are you?” called Wiluit.

  “I am your enemy,” said the black-cloaked man. A whistle tore the air and a horse trotted out of the orchard. The dark figure swung onto its back and shouted, “She’s as good as dead. If I cannot kill her, another will.”

  Wiluit saw Jauphenna lurch back, and then she threw a knife at the cloaked rider.

  Instantly a sword appeared in his hand and he batted the knife away with ease. “Mark my words, if you continue to defend Meluscia, your blood will run as red as hers upon the ground.”

  He spun his horse around and tore off through the orchard, the thundering of hooves fading into the night.

  Wiluit adjusted Shauwby upon his back. “Stay with me,” he said to Jauphenna, “we must hurry back to camp. Takmuk and Seethus sleep unprotected.”

  “What if he doubles back on us?” said Jauphenna.

  “Do you feel an impression to stay?” asked Wiluit.

  “…No.”

  “The Makers will give us direction,” said Wiluit. “Come now, let’s hurry to camp.”

  When Wiluit arrived, he found the men still sleeping, the fire at their feet only a fading wisp of deep red coals. He lay Shauwby down beside Seethus.

  “I’m not tired,” said Shauwby.

  “You will be soon enough,” said Wiluit. “Just close your eyes.”

  “Will that bad man come back?”

  “No,” said Wiluit. “He’s gone. Hush now.”

  Wiluit sat on his mat and wrapped himself in his blanket. Before him, the red glow of dying embers ebbed in and out of existence. Like a distorted face full of crimson eyes closing, then opening again.

  Wiluit wondered at the identity of the dark-cloaked man? He seemed to have a power himself. The quick maneuver with which he had deflected Jauphenna’s knife with his sword. A skill beyond anything Wiluit had witnessed.

  And he spoke of others who would try to kill Meluscia. Wiluit wondered if they would be as dangerous as the cloaked man who’d shot off three arrows before he’d taken two breaths.

  Fear grew inside his chest as he recalled the grim impression he received while at the house of Mayor Brucite. He looked at Shauwby. The child lay in peaceful sleep.

  It was not the boy he feared for.

  Across the dying fire sat Jauphenna, wrapped in a blanket and sitting on her mat, just as he was. She tossed her hair over her right shoulder and began fiddling with the ends.

  “I’ll retrieve my knife in the morning,” said Jauphenna. “It was a good throw, you have to admit.”

  Wiluit gazed at her fingers tugging and twisting the hair that fell just below her shoulder.

  “I’ve had an impression,” said Wiluit. “You and I, we must stay close to Shauwby. This is a dangerous mission the Makers have set us on. Meluscia is hunted, and I fear we may be also.”

  “Fine by me. I like being close to you, especially when you’re not reprimanding me.”

  “You are my family,” said Wiluit. “I speak out of love.”

  Jauphenna gave him a frail smile, then drifted into thought.

  “The Makers will continue to protect us, won’t they?” she questioned. “We are their chosen vessels.”

  “We are not invincible,” said Wiluit. “You’ve read enough of Takmuk’s work to know this. Some prophets of history have been murdered.”

  “I’ll be careful,” said Jauphenna. She winked and grinned. “When am I not careful?”

  Wiluit frowned. He did not feel like recounting instances. It would only lead to an argument. “Just continue to be wary. More so than usual. We cannot let down our guard.”

  --

  MELUSCIA

  Meluscia sat on her horse outside the stables beside the barracks, waiting for Terling, her scribe. The entire garrison was mounted, as were the band of prophets. She’d arranged with Solvig to send five horsemen to accompany Praseme back to the borders of her realm, along with Belen and Bezmerenna.

  Her sleep that night had been restless, filled with fearful dreams in which Praseme had revealed all that Meluscia had done, and of the child growing in her womb. Meluscia had awoken several times and thrown off her blankets to pace the room, plagued by fears. But what kind of repentance would it be if Meluscia told her to keep quiet about what she’d done? Or about the child? Not a very sincere one. By morning, she’d resolved to surrender her fate to Praseme’s tongue. In doing so, she was placing her destiny in the hands of the Makers.

  She knew it was right.

  Meluscia reached down and stroked the neck of her horse and stared absently out at the orchards lining the road ahead.

  “How long is the ride to Feaor’s castle?” asked Meluscia.

  “We should arrive this afternoon if we press the horses,” said Captain Solvig.

  “Very well,” said Meluscia. “Our mission is urgent.”

  Dawn lit the fruit orchards a beautiful golden red, but when Meluscia closed her left eye and looked through her right, she saw but a slit of the landscape before her. Gingerly she touched her skin. A swollen mound of flesh obscured the eye.

  “Are you certain you do not want the culprit punished?” asked Solvig. “In our land, to strike royalty is to strike the king himself. It is a grave offense.”

  “I told you already, I deserved the blow. Now do not speak of it anymore, as I’m sure the topic will arise again when we reach King Feaor’s castle.”

  Solvig nodded.

  Meluscia looked again at the stables, hoping to see Terling coming on his horse, but it was Praseme she saw.

  “I’m coming with you,” said Praseme, riding up beside her. “You have something that belongs to Mica and I.”

  Her cryptic words hung in the air, but they rang clear in Meluscia’s ears. Meluscia saw Praseme look upon her swollen eye. A momentary flash of remorse shown upon the girl’s face, then disappeared.

  Meluscia maneuvered her horse so that only Praseme could hear. “I am…grateful for the mark. It was owed me.”

  Praseme’s lips held straight, her eyes wavering between anger a
nd something kinder. “Despite everything,” she said under her breath, then reached down to touch the slight swell of her own stomach, “I’ll see your mission through. And I’ll see both of Mica’s children safely home.”

  Praseme turned her horse, and fell back beside Terling, who had just arrived from the stables along with Belen and Bezmerenna.

  “We are all here,” called Meluscia to Solvig. “My attendants won’t need an escort to my father’s borders after all.”

  “Very well,” said Solvig. The captain gave a shout and their delegation started down the path.

  Meluscia found the beauty of the fields and fruit orchards very different than the beauty of the Hold and its untamed forests. Mountains and dense woodlands were replaced by rolling hills, grasses, streams and the occasional orchard. As the sun rose high in the sky, Meluscia felt its touch like never before. The warmth held healing. All was right again in her soul. She was no longer skulking in shadows. Everyone could see the bruise on her face, and more importantly, Praseme knew everything.

  Even of the unborn child forming inside her. If the secret ever got out, it could destroy any chance Meluscia had of persuading King Feaor to sign the treaty. Even if Praseme did not speak of it, in time, her disgrace would be evident to all.

  It was not long before the towers of the castle rose above the tallest hill. Red roofs and windows lined the simple, yet immense structure. Her thoughts turned to King Feaor, and to Taumus, his advisor. She remembered Savarah’s words well. How she would deal with the threat she had only begun to consider.

  A rider came close alongside her.

  “Luminess Imminent, if I may have a word with you.”

  Meluscia met the man’s eyes. It was the leader of the prophets. Wiluit.

  She smiled faintly. “What is on your mind?” said Meluscia.

  “I’m afraid it is a word of caution to you. Are you aware that you are being hunted?”

  Meluscia felt a pang of fear at the words, despite already knowing the truth. “Yes,” she said. “I am aware.”

  Wiluit looked slightly surprised. “What do you know of the matter?” he asked.

  “They are spies of Isolaug. They’ve come from the Star Garden Realm and embed themselves in our kingdoms.”

  “How did you discover this?”

  “Savarah, my mercy sister, the one whom Jauphenna healed, she was once a spy for Isolaug.” Meluscia’s eyes met Wiluit’s. “But she’s turned on her master.”

  “I would like to hear more of this,” said Wiluit, “but we approach the castle gates. Our band will not be allowed in. We have tried before, and been denied. Unless the Makers open a way, then you must go to the king alone. We won’t be able to protect you.”

  Meluscia wondered at those words. Did they have a power beyond prophecy that they could physically protect her?

  “My sister gave me the names of the spies in this land. I will be wary.” The party began to slow as they approached the large iron gates. “Let’s talk more of this later, Wiluit. Thank you for your warning. I know of one threat within the king’s own castle. Pray that all goes as I have planned.”

  QUICK FIRE

  “How much are we being paid for this job?”

  “More than the last five jobs combined.”

  “What are they paying with?”

  “Diamonds—pink, sun-yellow, blue, you know, the pricy kind. One carat and up. And a crate of fire opal. That’s on top of the VOKKs we’re keeping.”

  “Does this mean I get Quick Fire cleaned? Trimiga’s blood stains are still fouling up the bridge.”

  “I’ll buy you a mop and you can give it to that crazy, one-eyed bastard you keep re-hiring.”

  “Piz wouldn’t even know what a mop was, drunk as he is half the time.”

  “Get Quick Fire to Hearth and then we’ll talk about sterilizing your ship. That kiehueth is worth the lion’s share of our payment.”

  “I’ll have to break the bad news to Piz. He wants to keep the thing for a ship mascot.”

  “Do us all a favor. Shut him in the airlock and shoot him into space…then let me know if his shriveled head explodes or not.”

  -Transmission between Captain Mhadrees, Quick Fire, and Mauris TeHekee, COO, Red Merchant Enterprise

  CHAPTER 10

  AVEN

  Pike was asleep. Aven sat against the wall, holding Daeymara’s fingers in his left hand and the braid of hair with the butterfly wing in his right. His eyes slowly combed Daeymara’s damaged body.

  The sight of her was not titillating. It was not like the time she had wanted him to stay the night in her room back at the Guardian Tower. If he had seen her then, like this, his mind, and body, would have reacted very differently.

  But that wasn’t the case here and now. He felt sorrow, looking at her. And loss. All of Daeymara’s female form, elegant and beautiful, yet so damaged.

  His thoughts drifted back to his hovel and the life he once had…to his memory of Harvest so many months ago. The way her face captured Aven. Every expression so different, so alluring, feminine and mysterious.

  Aven’s lungs filled with a deep draught of air and he closed his eyes. That girl was gone.

  And here, in this prison, the cruelty of losing something beautiful and good was a fresh wound once again.

  He thumbed the braid gently in his right hand. No expression touched Daeymara’s face other than the peace of sleep. Beneath her right breast was a dark lightning spot. Another spot lay beneath it on her stomach, while a third splotched high up on her right thigh. Aven wondered what those three wounds, and the one beneath her eye, had done inside her.

  Or if the damage could be undone.

  He stood and went over to the water hose where he’d hung his shirt to dry. He felt it. It was dry enough. He placed the neck over Daeymara’s breasts so that the bottom of the shirt draped down to her thighs. It was the best he could do.

  A cold tug suddenly jerked at his mind. He stared outside the grated metal door to the cell, disoriented by the strange sensation he’d just felt.

  Then it came again, stronger, and he fell back, head hitting the floor as it seized him—pulling him away, tearing his mind from his body.

  There was darkness all around him.

  He sensed he was no longer in his cell as a green glow emanated somewhere to his left. He was surrounded by dark green shadows. He glanced at the murky light. It glowed behind thick rows of bars, triggering a memory. It was the same dim light in the hallway he’d been led down by the mercenaries, and the thick bars…they were the only things that held back the creature that had come at him from out of the dark.

  But now, he was on the other side of the bars.

  Was this a dream? Or was he really there? He sensed his body. Reached in and touched his chest with his fingers, felt his own heart beating.

  He glanced around and saw nothing but darkness except for a form lying in front of him, faintly illuminated.

  It was a body. And it lay just inside the metal bars. Without seeing, he somehow knew it was Daeymara’s body. A shadow moved on his left. Aven got to his feet and hunkered down in a crouch. The shadowy form moved away from him. Toward Daeymara.

  Aven felt frozen as he took in the massive creature, outlined against the greenish light. Its shape was grotesquely different than any animal he’d ever seen. A long, snouted head lowered down, as if to sniff Daeymara’s hair. Aven tensed, uncertain of what he should do. How was the creature doing this? Pulling his mind into these dreams. They felt real, intensely vivid.

  The snout lurched forward. Daeymara’s upper body disappeared into the creature’s mouth with one thrust. The sight infuriated Aven even as it terrified him. He felt revulsion…and guilt.

  “Aven!” cried a young woman’s voice that shook him to his core.

  “…Harvest?”

  A form sprang from a darkened corner of the room, running toward him. He stood, but before he had moved, the creature was upon her. Harvest’s scream pierced the room, then
he heard a gargling and ripping of flesh.

  Aven crumpled to the metal floor, Harvest’s name rolling through his mind, echoing and crashing.

  “Get up,” came Pike’s voice. “He wants to talk to you.”

  Aven opened his eyes. A dingy light drew him from the dark dream that had been devouring his mind.

  “Come ‘ere, boy,” came a rough voice.

  Aven breathed deep. He realized he was lying on the floor in his cell, facing Daeymara’s cot. The sour smell of excrement and urine met his nose.

  His side suddenly screamed in pain as a blow struck his side, knocking the breath from him.

  “Get up!” shouted Pike again.

  Aven rolled over, grimacing. Pike’s foot came in for another kick, but Aven reacted with his hand, deflecting Pike’s blow. Aven kicked out, and the ball of his foot slammed Pike in the knee. Pike swore, grabbing his leg.

  “That’s it, give him your fists now,” said a cheerful voice outside the cell.

  Aven kept his eyes locked on Pike’s. The friendly boy was gone, and so was the opportunity to have done something to him while he was unaware.

  Pike spit, and the saliva hit Aven’s bare chest. A cold smile twitched at the corners of his lips, then he turned to look at the door of the cell. Aven followed his glance and saw a man standing outside. It was the mercenary with one eye, the one called Piz.

  “If you ain’t going to fight no more, then come ‘ere.”

  Aven obeyed, but kept his eye on Pike.

  “The kiehueth has taken a liking to you,” said Piz to Aven, a glint of humor in his eye. “That’s twice now it’s gotten into your head and put you on the floor. Thought you were sleeping when I first came, but then I saw your hands all fisted up, heard you breathing. Either you were having a real good dream,” said Piz with a wink, “or the kiehueth was fuggin’ with your mind.”

  Aven hesitated to respond to the mercenary, but finally asked, “How can an animal do that?”

  “The beastie does it to everyone sooner or later. I wet through my clothes every time he does me—but it’s a thrill wakin’ up! Still alive! All those people he drug out of your mind and slaughtered…that’s how he does it. That’s how he paralyzes you so bad. He gets in your head. Telepathy. And he digs around in your heart then kills whatever he finds. Back on the world we got him from, the villagers told us that’s how they hunt. Freeze their victim with fear. Take them out of the real world and put them in a twisted nightmare.”